The Dragon and the She-Bear
by Newbourne5
Summary: Viserion escapes Meereen and seeks out a new home on remote Bear Island. There he encounters Alysane Mormont. The two become fast friends and Alysane soon becomes his dragonrider. However, Viserion's deep desire to be human is made reality. Suddenly, all of Westeros is celebrating the arrival of the new Targaryen prince.
1. Chapter 1

I want to thank everyone in advance for taking the time to read this. The Mormont ladies and Bear Island itself get minimal mention on the show so I really wanted to expand their story. And as most would agree, the dragons are so fascinating and I can only hope their appearance increases as the show moves along. If any of you are a book readers you'll note I do take some liberties on Alysane's character and the other residents of Bear Island as well. But hopefully you like my modifications (and you must be used to the book to show transitions by now right? ;-). I apologize for so much exposition in the first chapter. I just needed a bit of setup before Alysane and Viserion formally meet. Thanks again for reading! Alysane

Alysane slowly drew air and snowflakes into her lungs, each expansion of her chest bringing with it a cold, tinny sting. As she rested, hidden against a fat tree, she felt snowflakes hitting the back of her throat, a brief sensation of cold before quickly melting. She swallowed and imagined the once lively flakes now snuffed of their puffy white lives, only to be reborn as the misty vapor she expelled through her nose and mouth.

It was an especially bitter cold day on remote Bear Island. Not the best kind of day for combat. Limbs tended to tire more easily and, as Alysane was currently experiencing, breathing could certainly become an issue.

It had also been a bit of an unusual day by island standards. A wildling scouting party had caught Alysane and her men off guard as the latter returned from a routine hunt. The wild men had inexplicably escaped from the spotter's eye at the Keep, and came face to face with the hunting party at a ratio of just over three to one. Neither group could have been more surprised.

Naturally, the seven of Bear Island engaged the wildlings in defense of their home. Scouting group or not, it would not be ideal if the intruders left the island alive. They may not have arrived on the island to overtake it on this particular day, but if given the chance they'd most certainly return with hundreds of their people to lay waste to all that Alysane held dear. Despite the discrepancy in numbers, the islanders prevailed for a time in combat before the remaining wildlings dispersed into the plush wilderness.

The islanders wisely did not give chase. Rather, they gathered near the water's edge, their clothes and armor offering excellent camouflage amongst the dense evergreens that populated their home. Just twenty feet ahead, three makeshift sailing vessels lay neatly along the water's edge, which is no doubt where their owners would soon return.

Alysane gazed past the wildling rafts and across the water, the heavily falling snow impeding her vision of what lay ahead. She shifted her focus to the trees to her left, eyes in a squint. She exhaled, eternally grateful to count all six of her men, all laying in wait and seemingly in good health.

She spied Elmer, her captain, just five yards in the distance. Elmer nodded to her and Alysane thought she caught a sly smirk spread across his rugged face. The seasoned warrior was nowhere near inconvenienced by this turn of events. Rather, he relished the chance to do battle on what was intended to be a day off.

The wildlings made their way towards the water as if on swift, light wings. Alysane had to give them credit. They were stealthy and silent. However, the residents of the island were onto their tricks and had been for centuries. As the wildlings approached, Alysane ceased all motion, including her breathing, and held her position against the tree. She grimaced. Her legs would need to move soon. The cold already seeping into her muscles would render them useless in just a few short minutes.

She fought a sharp exhale as the wildlings snuck along, the heavy snow muffling their approach. Her heart knocked at her chest, the men just several feet from her. One was so close she could swear she could feel the heat coming off his body as he passed her. If one only turned his head just slightly, the lady's existence would be revealed. She spied their leader straight away. He was impressive in build, with a mass of blonde curls on his head and a silken yet filthy beard. His hands and feet were enormous. She knew she'd need to be quick in wit as well as form.

As the thirteenth man passed her, she began to count. Her lungs screamed from within for another breath, but still she waited. One little puff of air could give her away immediately. She looked forward, her view of Elmer only somewhat skewed by several robust looking men in furs. He shot her a wink to let her know the last of them had passed, and she gratefully smiled as she exhaled. She quietly stood and awaited Elmer's move. Her right hand tensed around the grip of her sword, but she thought the better of it. The risk of its release could turn attentions back to her. She was wiser to remain at the backs the wildlings, at least for the time being.

Alysane watched as the band came ever closer to Elmer's boys, so expertly camouflaged that even the crew of wild men couldn't discern them from the trees. However, all of that changed once the lot was firmly within striking distance. Alysane watched as the wilderness came alive with protectors of her house. Elmer was first to raise both sword and fist to the wildlings, showing no apprehension at being outmatched two to one.

Alysane lurched forward in the snow, her target just ahead, engaged in a match with Heben, Elmer's youngest son. The wildling leader had sustained two blunt strikes to his jaw care of the teenager's fist, which didn't do much else but draw the larger man's ire. When Alysane reached the pair, the man had his massive hands wrapped around the boy's throat. Heben's feet danced below him as he was lifted off the ground, his eyes bulging from their sockets as his windpipe was slowly being crushed. But, being as rough-hewn as his father, the boy wasn't quick to give up. Alysane watched as the boy quickly reached up and yanked on the wildlings ear so hard he'd managed to nearly separate it from the man's head. The wildling cursed and dropped the boy, holding the loosened cartilage against his head as if to try to magically reattach it.

"You alright, Heben?" called Alysane.

"Better now, my lady," the boy choked out. "Business as usual." He was moving backwards on his knees in an attempt to avoid the hammer fisted swings of the man he'd recently injured.

Just before Alysane could rescue the young man from the giant, a wiry-looking fellow with black eyes knocked Alysane from her path. She stumbled but quickly regained her balance. "Let's have a go of it, _my lady_ ," he taunted. She rebounded quickly, managing to keep her balance and brace herself as he launched himself at her. Her feet rooted to the ground, she met him soundly with her right shoulder, knocking him backwards into the snow, causing his head to meet an errant log. He grunted at the searing pain at the base of his skull.

She chose her dagger over sword and quickly straddled the man, ignoring his cries for mercy as she plunged the short blade into one marble black eye. Alysane felt his legs twitch below her before all movements ceased. She turned just in time to see the leader's hateful eyes upon her.

The giant turned his attentions from the poor boy he'd been so gleefully strangling just moments before and focused upon her. Alysane smirked and made a show of twisting her dagger into the dead wildling man's eye socket. "What?" she asked, looking perplexed. "He said he wanted to have a go of it after all, didn't he?"

"You little bitch," he growled as he came towards her.

"Shit." Alysane was quick to her feet, dagger still in hand as she began to lead the wildling leader from the battle. She briefly glanced to her right, noting Elmer and his men were successfully defeating the remaining intruders. She thought since her men were handling themselves quite nicely, then it might be time for a bit of fun.

She moved swiftly in the snow, but the massive man was hot on her trail. His sheer size was the only impediment to his speed, but it was really only a slight obstacle at best. She led him through the woods and onto the path to the hunting shelter that was affectionately termed the "bears cave" by the islanders.

His strides were long and swift, despite the bitter air and inexperience with the terrain. Alysane willed herself forward, heart and lungs screaming at her in protest. She felt her left foot lose traction momentarily but quickly reacted and kept at her pace. She counted only ten more yards, and one more bend in the trail before the shelter appeared. In the distance the sounds of wildling screams pierced the otherwise tranquil air. Alysane stopped short at the bears cave and slowly turned, a look of amusement painting her face. She drew her sword for effect. Just then her pursuer rounded the bend. Breathing heavily, he broke into a smile at the scene before him. "Well, look at this. Little lady's got herself trapped. And with nary a man in sight to protect her."

Alysane scoffed. "You're under the unfortunate impression that I need a man's protection," she stated. "And for your information I'm not so little," she said. She looked down at her chest and sighed. "Admittedly, I'm more tits than anything else, surely, but I'm not little."

"I noticed," he said, circling her. "You're built quite well in fact," he said admiringly. His eyes turned dark while his right hand gripped his dagger so tightly that his knuckles were blanched.

"What a nice compliment," she said, batting her sapphire blue eyes. "You're not so bad for a filthy, murderous, one-eared beast either." She rested her hand on the shelter's entrance. "Do you want me to take care of that?" she asked, flicking her ear in reference to his recent injury. "Just a quick swipe of the sword and that little flap will be gone."

He charged her in an attempt to come down hard on her shoulder with the dagger. Alysane quickly sidestepped and sent him to his knees with a sharp elbow strike to his ribs, followed by a swift blow to the back of his head with the pommel of her sword. He grunted at the ringing pain in his skull. She kicked his dagger away while he attempted to collect himself. He spit blood onto the snow and involuntarily grasped at his injured ear.

Alysane observed this for a few moments, noting such off behavior where a wildling was concerned. The man's zest for the fight was quelled rather quickly it seemed. She sheathed her weapon. "Ah, come on," she teased. "Is this all the wildlings can muster up these days?" she asked. "I've had more trouble swatting at horseflies in summer. Of course you big boys always seem to fall harder than the rest but that's simply no excuse for this poor showing."

The man regrouped, wiping the blood from his shorn ear and washing his hands off in the snow. "You sling insults at me when it was your people that attacked us?" he asked, incredulous.

"Well, my dimwitted friend, you led your men onto _my_ lands, did you not? Sure, you may not have planned on taking Bear Island for yourselves today, but it certainly was the plan, wasn't it? It's only been this way for centuries after all." She folded her arms across her chest. "Where's your camp anyway? How many have you got there, just salivating at the idea of taking our home? Hmmm?" He simply glared at her. "Not feeling talkative? No matter. You won't be going back to your camp or your people ever again now will you?" She smiled sweetly.

He stared at her intently as he rose on wobbly legs. "The lady shows no fear in the face of danger," he said with a touch of admiration. "You're the one they call the she-bear, aren't you? I've heard all about you."

"Have you now?" she asked, rather surprised. "Well, do tell. I haven't heard an amusing tale in ages."

"The she-bear," he rasped, revealing a bloodstained grin. "Alysane Mormont, you are. You have a son and it's told that his father is a bear. Is that true?" he asked, coming closer to her. "Did you really lie down with a bear?"

"Well I've always preferred them big and hairy," said Alysane.

"You like them wild," he said, eyes now slowly regaining their fire. "Like me." He came even closer. "You know what I think?

"I'm on pins and needles," she said, flatly.

"I think you went out and found yourself a wildling man and just couldn't resist having him between your legs. I think," he said. "That you knew a proper lord couldn't please you like a wild born man could. So you gave of yourself to him. You lifted your skirt and let him have you, over and over. You were too ashamed to admit that you, a highborn lady, would ever lower yourself so much that you actually claimed a bear was your son's sire."

Alysane looked thoughtful. "An excellent theory," she said. "If only it were true, as I've heard you wildling men can be, how shall I say this… _impressive_ in the areas of romance. But I'm sorry to disappoint you as you've clearly disappointed me. No wildling has dipped his toe in my waters."

He eyed her with bitterness at first but he suddenly and inexplicably softened. "Show me what you've got under all that chain and leather," he said playfully. "Come, lady," he said, nodding to the bears cave. "I'll even take you properly, inside the shelter. I won't even flip you over on your tummy. We can do it face to face. However you want."

She suppressed laughter. "How kind of you to appeal to my modesty," she said. "But I'll have to pass on your offer. And to be honest you won't be much for making love today anyway, as you'll be dead soon the way I see it. I thought you'd figured that out by now, but after losing an ear and being bested by a woman, I can see where such details could escape unnoticed."

He stepped forward once again. "The lady tells fortunes?" he asked with renewed vigor. "Enough with your jests. Either get in the shelter or I'll bury your face right here in the snow while I have you," he growled and set his jaw. "You're a smart woman, quite surely. But I've _nothing_ to lose. So it's up to you if go home with tales of another tryst with a bear, or if your men find you with your throat slit."

"It's just between the two scenarios then?" she asked coquettishly. "Should I perhaps flip a coin?"

He charged her and she held her hands out defensively. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry." She smoothed her hair and smiled as he stopped short. "I admit I've been teasing you relentlessly. Might I offer a third option that would benefit both myself and… _the bear_ …so to speak?" she asked, a twinkle in her eye.

He exhaled. "Alright. What does the lady have in mind?" he asked through gritted teeth.

She pointed over his shoulder. "Turn around."

The wildling man hesitated, as he saw the immense shadow rise behind him, placing a foreboding gray light on the snowy ground. Suddenly his skin prickled, and dread overcame him. He willed himself to turn, his breathing staggered. He was face to face with the largest brown bear he'd ever seen, it's feral eyes fixed upon him, a sonorous growl tickling at the creature's throat. The muscles in his legs betrayed him, and he involuntarily dropped to his knees in the snow. A short, hoarse cry was all that escaped his throat as the massive bear charged. The beast crushed the man's chest under his enormous paws, eliminating any possibility of fighting back. The bear tore through the wildling's thick furs and made quick work of his torso, turning sinew and skin into mere ribbons.

The once virile wildling was reduced to tatters in moments. Alysane slowly approached the beast as it feasted on the man's innards. She ran her fingers through its thick, luscious fur. "Nicely done, my friend," she said softly. "You've got a bit of fight left in you yet, old girl." The creature paused and gazed up at her lovingly, eyes like two dark pools, snout dripping with syrupy blood. She groaned quietly at Alysane before turning back to her meal.

Suddenly the woods began to resonate with the sounds of a horn blast from the Keep. It was to signal the return of the boats, meaning nearly half of the island's men would be returning from a long day on the water, including Alysane's son Jogon.

"My lady! My lady!" Elmer called frantically from the trail.

"Here Elmer," she called, back, going to meet him.

The grizzled warrior looked terribly worried as he met her on the path. He exhaled when he saw that she was unharmed. "Oh thank goodness," he said, relieved. "You ran off and…"

"I know and I'm sorry Elmer. I just thought I'd have a bit of fun with the big boy over there," she said gesturing over her shoulder. "I'm sorry if I alarmed you."

Elmer peered in the distance and spied the bear crouched over the body of the wildling. He chuckled hoarsely. "The old girl never disappoints, does she?"

"Not when a hot meal is available," said Alysane. She looked out towards the Keep. "How did you fare?" she asked.

"Oh just fine," assured Elmer. "Heben will have a nasty bruise on his neck and Jeb's shoulder will need tending to being that there's an arrow in it. My aches are more from sleeping wrong than anything else. Otherwise we're doing quite well."

"Hmmm," started Alysane.

"Our good fortune doesn't please you?" joked Elmer.

"Oh my apologies Elmer. I am very glad that everyone is okay. It's just that today's group. They were a bit… _vulnerable_ wouldn't you say? Wildlings are rugged and powerful and always come back swinging. We were outmatched three times our size and we prevailed with minimal injury. Doesn't that seem a bit strange to you?"

Elmer shrugged. "I suppose they have been lacking in vigor as of late," he agreed. "Food could be scarce," he offered. "Perhaps they're starving."

Alysane turned to see the bear pulling flesh from the wildling's rib cage. "I suppose," she said. "It's just odd. Wildlings rarely utilize scout groups. If they want something they come on enemy land, pillage everything in sight and take what they want. Why waste time scouting? They know the Keep. They know our defenses. It just doesn't make sense."

"My lady I appreciate your inquiry," started Elmer. "After all it's important for the heir of the house to ask questions, gather information as it were. But I think perhaps for today it'll be best to simply appreciate their unfortunate weaknesses and our ability to prevail. No wildling escapes Bear Island, not today anyway. We did our duty. Not much else one can ask for. "

Alysane nodded, but her brow remained furrowed. "What of the bodies?" she asked.

"Already being led to the pit," offered Elmer. He hesitated and cleared his throat. "And Heben's been sent ahead to reassure your mother of your safe return."

Alysane suddenly felt her stomach turn to acid. "Yes. _Mother_ ," she said, cringing. "Is there a small chance that my absence has gone unnoticed?" she asked meekly.

"Not a chance my lady," said Elmer. "And I know this because I could hear her bellowing your name straight through to the water just moments ago."

Alysane groaned. "Perfect."

"I'll take the weight of blame this time, my lady," offered Elmer. "I've been in Lady Maege's good graces as of late. You however..."

"No," said Alysane. "But thank you, Elmer. This hunt was my bright idea and you were only going along to ensure my safety. I'll incur the wrath of Maege." She turned back to the bear making quick work of the wildling. "Give her another hour and then send someone for the remains," she said.

Elmer nodded. "Alright. Shall we?" he gestured towards the Keep.

Alysane slapped Elmer on the shoulder as the two took off for the Keep. Snow crunched under the weight of their boots although Alysane felt as if her feet barely touched the ground at all. The two sprinters disturbed a scurry of squirrels and nearly tripped over the little animals as they scattered away, twittering in exasperation.

Just ahead was Mormont Keep. Alysane could never resist a smile at the sight of home. Mormont Keep was the largest log structure in the Seven Kingdoms. Wrapped in the comforting arms of an earthen palisade, it was always an image to drink in for both residents and visitors alike as it sat nestled among the tall evergreens, smoke rising from its hearths. It was considered a rather rustic or even primitive construction by contemporary standards, but it was full of comforts and Alysane couldn't imagine living anywhere else.

The lady and her captain arrived home just as Lady Maege stood on the north ledge, tugging on the scout's coat and ordering him to sound the horn for a second time. The stout woman spied her daughter racing through the main thoroughfare and up the steps to the great hall with long strawberry blonde locks sailing in her wake. Maege hauled her plump body over the ledge and shouted down, eyes full of rage. "Alysane Mormont, you insolent little horror!" she exclaimed. "Just wait until I get a hold of you!"

Alysane nodded to the snickering guardsmen as she and Elmer blew into the great hall, their quickened steps echoing throughout the airy log and limb structure. They raced past the massive stone fireplace that rose from the center of the great hall and reached nearly eighty-five feet in height. The familiar sights and scents of home only mildly relieved her anxiety. The two bypassed the entryway to the courtyard and Alysane hopped onto the stairs, seeking her residence on the third level. "Good luck," she called to Elmer as he disappeared towards the kitchens.

Alysane felt a flash of certain victory upon reaching her door and seeing her entryway empty of any of her mother's guardsmen. Exhaling, she twisted the knob and entered her room, shutting the doors and peering out of the small peephole for any signs of activity. Satisfied that she'd temporarily escaped one of her mother's infamous tirades, she smoothed her hair and sleeves before turning around. "Jogon!" she exclaimed, putting her hand over her mouth. "You scared me near to death!"

Her son of sixteen stood before her, wearing the usual impish grin on his handsome face. He crossed his arms on his chest, clearly amused. "Mother I can never remember," he started. "When grandmother undoubtedly murders you, who becomes official heir to the house, me or aunt Lyra? If it's me then I've got some excellent ideas on refurbishing the great hall to share. What would you say to everything in the color red?" he asked excitedly. "Best color to hide bloodstains you know."

"Very funny," she replied dryly. "How can you joke at a time like this?" she pouted. "Don't you love mummy?"

"Oh I love you mother that is without any doubt. I just have to wonder if you do, in fact, desire to be with the gods at an early age. Let's go over your list of offenses just today," he said, his molasses brown eyes twinkling. "You left this morning on an unsanctioned hunting trip, taking some of our best men with you. Then, you got ambushed by a group of wildlings outnumbering your lot three to one. But," he said, pointedly. "It gets better doesn't it? You just _had_ to lead the biggest of the wildlings away, alone, to…do what exactly?"

"Well it was a series of events that preceded it, but it was basically so a bear could eat him," she said, matter-of-factly.

"So a BEAR could eat him!" Jogon exclaimed excitedly. "Of course, of course, because the natural conclusion that any sane person would draw is that if you trifle with Alysane Mormont, you get eaten by a bear." He sighed before putting his hands on his hips. "I couldn't make up some of the things that you do even if I had the help of the best pens in Westeros."

She scoffed. "For your information my dear boy we were not ambushed. We happened upon a scouting party on our return."

He raised an eyebrow. "A wildling scouting party," he repeated skeptically. "Do me a favor and don't tell grandmother that bit of information. She's already angry enough."

"I'm serious," she asserted. "Ask Elmer. They weren't equipped as raiders. They barely had any weapons. Besides, two dozen of them could possibly raid a barn, but not Mormont Keep."

Jogon looked thoughtful. "How odd," he said, pacing the room. He suddenly stopped. "Did you question them?"

"Just the one I led away," she said. "He wasn't so eager to share when the topic turned to where his camp was located."

Jogon went to speak but hesitated.

"What is it?" asked Alysane.

"I'm not sure," said Jogon. "It's just that," he started. "Well, perhaps next time we encounter wildlings on the island we'd better retire our usual policy."

"So hold them for questioning?" asked Alysane. "Why?"

"I just have a feeling that today's so-called scouting party wasn't what it seemed," he said. "I think maybe they don't have a bigger camp across the waters. I think they came here because they have nowhere else to go. Because they're scared."

Alysane looked thoughtful. "The wildling beast did say something about having nothing to lose," she admitted. "I assumed he meant because of certain death."

"Oh I absolutely think he meant certain death. Just not by one of us," said Jogon.

Alysane studied him for a moment. "White walkers?" she asked.

Jogon nodded.

"Fantastic," said Alysane. "And here I thought just having to deal with the Boltons was punishment enough."

"Maester Aemon only recently sent ravens warning of the White Walkers," he said. "Bear Island isn't that far from the Wall. It's not impossible to consider that the White Walkers are moving faster than we'd thought and the remaining wildlings are escaping across the water to find shelter."

"Then why wouldn't the fools say something to us when we happened upon each other?" Alysane asked.

"Would it have done them any good?" asked Jogon. "Our family has been fending off wildlings for centuries. Think you a brand new story would change our hearts towards them?"

"That's true," said Alysane. They sat in silence for a few moments. "It's something to bring up to Maege at dinner this evening," she said. "Ugh. Maege." She twirled her hair in deep thought. "The wildling man. He said he knew of me. He called me the she-bear."

"Just what you needed for your already inflated ego," said Jogon jokingly.

"He also claimed knowledge of your parentage. Doesn't that seem odd?" she asked.

"Mother the story of your interlude with a bear has been around since you birthed me right in the middle of the great hall," said Jogon. "Wildling or not, chatter has a long reach. Especially a story of that magnitude."

"I suppose," said Alysane. "You'd think wildlings would have better things to do." She laughed. "I think the same about our own folk. Most know what trouble I'm in before I even know!"

"Well without Jorah around anymore they see your exploits as the next best thing," said Jogon, chuckling. The boy's face suddenly became serious and he took his mother to his chest to embrace her. She could feel a slight tremble ripple through his muscular frame. "Are you truly okay?" he asked softly. "The wildling man…did he try to…?"

"Only in his wildest imaginings," assured Alysane.

"Thank the gods," said Jogon, relaxing.

"Thank Brij," she replied. "The old girl's been itching for a good kill for awhile now."

"Good on her," said Jogon of the bear. "I owe her." His face soon returned to its jovial state and he smiled warmly, deep dimples appearing at the base of his cheeks. He touched his mother's face. "You know I couldn't go on without you. Don't you?"

She returned the smile and squeezed him tightly. "And same goes for me my son."

They separated and Jogon took a seat on his mother's bed. "I was just down in the kitchens. Nice stag your group brought in," he said appreciatively. "Word is you took him down yourself."

"Thus once again proving my point. We're rife with busybodies," she said, shaking her head and beginning to remove her chain.

Jogon observed her. "You look tired," he said. "Are you still having those dreams?"

She tossed a mass of chain and leather straps on the chair near the window. "Yes," she said, massaging a bruised shoulder. "They're more frequent now."

"Is it the reason you went out on a hunt this morning?" he asked. "So you could catch a glimpse?"

"Catch a glimpse of what exactly?" she asked.

"You know what I mean. So you could see _him_. The white dragon. To watch him sail through the skies above Bear Island just like in your dreams," he said. "And so you could finally learn his name."

She shrugged. "They're simply dreams," she said. "No need to be so literal."

"Now mother, there have been rumors of dragons for quite some time now," said Jogon.

"Rumors," said Alysane.

"Mother this isn't the first time your dreams have proved to be portents of things to come," argued Jogon. "And besides, wouldn't it be so, so…fantastic to meet a dragon? To see it fly and hear it roar louder than all of the beasts in the forest? To sit upon it's back and soar through the sky?"

"To feel its flames upon your body as it roasts you alive," offered Alysane, sarcastically. "I'm beginning to reconsider my decision to share these dreams with you."

Jogon sighed. "I refuse to believe that these dreams are wasted on you. Of anyone I know you have the most adventure hidden in your heart. You tell people that my father is a bear for goodness sake! You don't enjoy the nightly visitations from the white dragon? Not even a little bit?" He looked at her expectantly.

She looked at his young face, his bronze complexion a rare sight in the North, especially in the midst of winter. Alysane smiled. "I'll admit, there is some appeal for this adventurous heart."

The two shared a smile just before they heard a storm gathering at the base of the great hall. Alysane looked at the doorway to her suite and swallowed hard. "Here comes your grandmother."

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Viserion

Viserion gripped the ceiling of the ink black pit where he and his brother Rhaegal had been held captive for what seemed like a lifetime. The white dragon had managed to find several rather significant structural disturbances upon inspection of this area just a week earlier. This had inspired hope in the dragon. Weaknesses in the pit could lead to escape.

He primarily used his large black claws to dig at the degenerating structure, learning very quickly that using his mouth only served to give him a toothache. He worked with patience and meticulousness, traits not generally attributable to a dragon. However, Viserion thought, what else did he have to fill his days? In any event, the daily activity was keeping him from going mad.

He'd managed to toil long enough at the edifice to actually whittle out a perch for himself, giving him the luxury of using his body weight and allowed for better overall balance. The morning had passed rather quickly and Viserion continued on in the best of spirits.

He glanced down at Rhaegal, who had spent his time in the pit caught in an infuriating dance of pure rage and distinct depression. The only reason Viserion had originally begun seeking the upper limits of the pit was to escape his brother's abuse. He'd suffered too many bites and scratches from his deranged sibling to want to be in close proximity anymore. It certainly wasn't the green dragon's fault. Any manner of man or beast would have been driven to the nadir of either insanity or despair if they were locked in such a chamber.

Viserion, however, enjoyed his renewed sense of purpose, endlessly scraping away at the ceiling of his prison. Even the faintest taste of freedom elicited a joy within him that he'd only felt when in flight. He hadn't quite understood why his mother chained her sons in the dark pit so long ago. They'd followed her into its depths so willingly. They trusted her. But once the shackles were placed on them, their trust soon turned to confusion and then to bitterness.

Of course the shackles were long gone. Both siblings had worked day and night to loosen them from their bases in the ground. It didn't make for quick work, but with perseverance they were free of the iron fingers that once held them. They'd spent their first "free" days pacing the pit, bumping into its walls and snarling at each other in irritation. But then Rhaegal retreated into his lunacy, leaving Viserion to devise his own way to cope with his macabre existence.

And that is just what the white dragon did. Every thought he had was about escape and freedom and wind and flying. Sometimes he'd lose days to stubborn fantasies of slicing through the air and traveling to the most wondrous and exotic places. He relished in his own obsession. The sounds of the people of Meereen and the blissful songs of the birds outside only inspired his passion. Finding the cracks in the ceiling only validated his dreams even more. And there he remained, working without pause for seven days.

On this particular day it was quite hot in the city. The streets just above Viserion's head baked under the relentless sun. It was especially quiet in the pit that day. Viserion only heard from Rhaegal when the green dragon would moan grumpily at him in response to the mortar and stone that fell from high as Viserion worked.

At midday, the white dragon caught his first glimpse of freedom. Or rather, his first peek at the street above. He pressed one molten gold eye against an opening and spied a young woman herding a small group of children by. They stepped right over his head, completely unaware of his existence. The daylight from the city above cast a weak stream of light into the pit. Viserion pressed on, his heart full of excitement. As dusk approached, cobblestones began to fall into the pit, their absence each creating a pinpoint of light within the tomb.

At this point, Rhaegal took notice. He stretched and then craned his neck up at his brother. He watched intently as his sibling tore at the top of the pit. Cobblestones now fell with increased frequency, each landing with a click below. Rhaegal suffered a few minor injuries to his head as he looked up, but his tough scales protected him. He began to feel something inside of him, something wonderful. As a dragon he lacked any sort of vocabulary for what he was experiencing. To a human this sensation could certainly be called nothing other than hope.

Rhaegal soon joined Viserion on the ceiling, opting not to scrape and scratch at the surface, but to use his strong head and shoulders to raze their surroundings. To his delight, it worked. The material began to break free more easily. Viserion noted this and followed suit. The two brothers summoned every ounce of strength they had and pushed in unison, liberty only just moments away.

Finally, and with great relief, the brothers emerged victoriously from the pit, pieces of the street falling from their shoulders and bouncing off their leathery wings. They both roared joyously and turned their attentions to the sky above them. Viserion scaled the building closest to him and climbed until he enjoyed a clear view of the starry night sky. He roared again, unable to recall when he'd felt such happiness. He watched as Rhaegal climbed a building just across from him.

In an unspoken union, both brothers looked at each other as if to say farewell before they took to the air. It took a few moments for the dragon's muscles to adapt to their sudden new use. Viserion felt the air move along his wings in ripples as the city below became smaller and smaller. He sang happily as he reached ever higher into the atmosphere. Rhaegal's own cheerful song could be heard in the distance.

Viserion had no destination but this was of no matter to him now. He was free and he would never feel the confines of his prison ever again. He pointed himself North as he heard Rhaegal's song become softer and softer until it finally disappeared.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to everyone reading and alerting. Thank you Ms. RomanceFan for your great comments. It was very nice of you to take the time to do that. In this chapter I'll delve into more of Bear Island's politics and, of course, good ole Maege. There will also be some elements pulled from the books but not mentioned in the show. Thank you again for reading.

Alysane

"I give you credit Mother," started Alysane. "It's been quite some time since you dragged me by my ear through the great hall." She rubbed her tender earlobe. "Serves me right for thinking you were beginning to lose your edge."

Lady Maege Mormont pounded on the maester's door before turning and glaring at her daughter. "I will hear no more of your nonsense until you've been examined thoroughly," she said flatly. "Maybe you'll think twice next time you want to go off alone with a wildling man."

"Now don't be jealous Maege," said Alysane. "I know it's been many a moon since your skirts have been strewn across a bedchamber floor but it's no reason to be snippy with your beloved daughter."

"Ha!" said Maege. "Beloved pain in my arse."

Alysane rolled her eyes at a sympathetic Jogon. "Come home pregnant at thirteen ONE time and no one ever lets you forget it," she said under her breath.

Young Maester Brindel quickly opened his door. His blue eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement. "My ladies. My lord," he said nodding towards them. "What can I help you with this evening?"

Maege took Alysane by the arm and shoved her at the maester. "I want you to take a good look at her underpinnings," said Maege. "My brilliant daughter decided to spend some time alone with a wildling raider today and I want to make sure I won't be getting any surprises in nine months."

"Grandmother," started Jogon. "Is this really necessary? Can't we take Mother at her word?"

Maege put her fist to Jogon's chest. "You might, but I certainly won't!" She turned back to her daughter. "In with you! And just be glad that I'm not staying here to watch."

"Love you mummy!" Alysane called to her mother's retreating back.

Maege simply scoffed and grabbed the first handmaid she could find and gestured in Alysane's direction. "She is to have a long bath after her visit with the maester," she instructed. "Dinner is in one hour Alysane!" she bellowed as she disappeared down the hall.

Jogon sighed. "Mother this is foolish, I think that…"

"I'll see you at dinner," said Alysane. "Go on Jogon, I'll be fine."

The young man relented and stalked to his chambers.

The maester followed her into his offices and quietly closed the door behind them. Alysane folded her arms across her chest, now not afraid to betray her true emotions in front of her closest friend. "Nothing like a little public humiliation to put one swiftly in her place," she lamented, swallowing hard.

He smiled and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. "Are you alright my lady?"

"Just fine," she assured him, placing a hand upon his. "I'd settle for nothing less. My ear and my self-image are an entirely different story."

"Good," he exhaled. He, of course, believed his old friend. The two had been close since Jogon's birth sixteen years earlier. Brindel, once of House Manderly, was just twenty when he arrived on Bear Island, fresh from his studies at the Citadel. He'd been maester of the grand keep less than a month when thirteen-year-old Alysane returned from her two-year unsanctioned sojourn to Essos. She was clearly pregnant and, in fact, ready to give birth upon her arrival.

"I'm sorry my lady," Elmer had explained to Maege at the time. "But she said that the baby absolutely had to be born on Bear Island."

And they arrived just in time because Alysane had only made it several steps into the great hall before settling right down on the floor in front of the hearth. It was only a few moments before the Keep was plump with the cries coming from Jogon's healthy little lungs.

Upon the numerous inquiries surrounding the baby's father, Alysane simply shrugged and claimed a bear to be the true sire. After all, she reasoned, Mormont women were skinchangers and a bear for a father wasn't entirely out of the question. Besides, the father of her child was no one's business but her own. Of course, Brindel and Jogon were allowed the secrets of the boy's parentage. Maege and everyone else were forced to begrudgingly accept the bear defense.

"Okay then," said Alysane, hopping up on to the exam table and pulling Brindel from his reverie. "Let's get this over with."

Brindel shook his head. "My lady if you tell me that you were not assaulted by the wildling man then I believe you. No need for such formalities."

"Nonsense," said Alysane, tucking her thumbs under her waistband. "I want your conscience clear when you face Maege later." She pulled her undergarments over her legs and playfully tossed them at the maester. His freckled face reddened. "Come now," she said, sliding her bottom to the end of the table. "And remember I'm a sensitive little flower so for goodness sake be gentle."

The maester complied and joined her at the table. He slowly walked his hands down her thighs and got to work. "I suppose we should make small talk to make this less uncomfortable," she offered.

He lifted his head up and chuckled. "Certainly," he said. "What shall we discuss? The weather? The monthly budget?" He paused for effect. "Stannis Baratheon's planned march on Winterfell?"

"Ah, a weighty one," said Alysane. "Stannis is making lots of new friends at Castle Black I'm sure."

"We could always discuss your dreams of dragons," offered the maester, with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "If you prefer."

"Stannis is the topic of choice then," decided Alysane. "What are the ravens delivering from the icy Wall these days?"

"Not very good news, I'm afraid," said Brindel. "They've…lost Maester Aemon."

Alysane lifted her head in concern. "Oh that's terrible," she said. "He's been their maester for over seventy years. Those poor men must be devastated."

"Yes," Brindel agreed. "He was a good, kind soul. I'm sure his death will leave a terrible hole in their hearts."

Alysane was thoughtful. "So many changes afoot at Castle Black. Too many. There's a new, and very young, lord commander at the helm. Stannis' army is undoubtedly sucking up all their available resources, and now Aemon's death." She sighed. "And of course, there's the wonderfully thrilling prospect of being destroyed at any given moment by an undead army of white walkers. I tell you I do not envy Jon Snow at this moment. Not one bit," said Alysane.

"He'd be hard pressed to find anyone that did. Did you ever meet the Lord Commander?" asked Brindel.

"Yes," said Alysane, smiling. "Though I did not know him very well. I'd see him on occasion during visits to Winterfell. He was a nice boy. Quiet, as I remember."

"Do you think he possesses the talent to successfully run the Wall?" asked Brindel.

"He's a Stark, " said Alysane, matter-of-factly. "I have no doubt in my mind."

Brindel stood and smiled. "No bruising or any other signs of an assault. My lady I can report with utmost confidence that you are intact and, for all intents and purposes, pure as the driven snow."

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Alysane strutted into the dining hall wearing her best dress, a deep green raw silk blend that accentuated her lovely figure. The lady personally hated dresses, but proper attire at dinner had been a longstanding rule of Maege's.

On this night the hall was full of hungry, raucous diners, many anxious to discuss the recent death of Maester Aemon and the implications it would have for the men of the Night's Watch, and for the whole of the realm. "Imagine it. The only Targaryen left in this world is the young girl in Meereen," said one person.

"She's on the wrong bloody continent if she wants to get anywhere," said one of the servers.

"It doesn't matter where she goes. The only one fit to be on the Iron Throne is a Stark!" hollered Morin, one of Elmer's men. "It's a bleeding shame he's already taken the black."

"Jon's a bastard anyway," argued another of Elmer's men.

"Still a Stark by blood," said Morin. "I'd bend a knee to him."

Alysane strolled to her mother's table at the far right corner of the hall. She nodded to her mother, her siblings and her son before flopping into her seat. "Everyone's feeling rowdy tonight I see." She peered at her mother's expectant face and rolled her eyes. "Please spare me that look as I'm sure you've already heard from Maester Brindel. I'm clean as a whistle." She winked at her son. "In every sense of the word."

"I had no doubts," said Jogon, grinning.

"Luck was on your side this time," warned Maege. "As heir to this house, you will be much more careful in the future I'm sure."

"Of course Mother," assured Alysane. "I want to remain alive long enough to rule our little segment of paradise after all."

"You won't get much of a chance if you pull another exploit like today," said Maege, looking meaningfully at her youngest daughter, Lyanna, who absolutely adored Alysane. "Aren't I correct Alysane?"

"Oh," said Alysane, sitting up straighter. "Right as always Mother. I'll be sure to stay away from those wildling men from now on." She reached over and tugged at Lyanna's hair.

The little girl giggled, moving dark bangs away from her forest green eyes. "I heard that wildling fellow wasn't much to speak of," she said loudly. " _I heard_ that Alysane fed him to Brij."

Several of the diners in the hall raised their glasses. "Atta girl Alysane!" one of them called.

Alysane and Jogon raised their glasses. "Here we stand," they said in unison.

"HERE WE STAND!" was the resounding reply from the other diners.

Maege clucked under her breath.

Alysane couldn't help but revel in getting under her mother's skin. "I heard something as well, Miss Lyanna," she started playfully. " _I heard_ that the youngest of the Mormont women gave Stannis Baratheon a piece of her mind when he asked for fealty a few weeks back."

Everyone at the table enjoyed a hearty laugh, including Maege. "She specifically asked the maester if she could issue the reply. I said 'why not?' A southern king in Winterfell. It's profane!"

"It's certainly better than a Bolton ruling there," argued Jogon. "And who's to say Stannis won't restore order? He's a true leader whether we like to admit it or not."

"Careful Jogon," said Alysane, looking around at the hall full of Stark loyalists. "Remember your audience."

Jogon shook his head in protest. "Mother I'm faithful to House Stark through and through. But we've all heard the rumors coming from Winterfell and for YEARS from the Dreadfort. Look what happened to Lord and Lady Cerwyn. Flayed alive in front of their youngest son, then hung from the walls at Winterfell. And for refusing to pay their taxes! And let's not forget what their alliance with the Freys has done to our family. Do I need to remind everyone the gift my dear aunt Dacey, the heir to this house, received at the Red Wedding? If anyone's memory is fuzzy, Ryman Frey drove a longaxe through her stomach! The Boltons are a cancer and always have been. If Stannis takes Winterfell back for the North then I say may the gods be on his side. The old and the new!"

Several of the diners raised their glasses. "The boy may have a point," offered one.

"So we'll go from flaying people alive to burning them?" asserted Alysane. "Because that's just what we'll get with Stannis and his red priestess. And how do we know Stannis is taking Winterfell back for the North anyway?"

"Alysane, who do you propose to be our savior then?" asked Alysane's sister Lyra. "The Starks are all but gone. Jon Snow is a bastard who's taken the black. Sansa's now a Bolton. Don't even get me started on the Baratheon boy in Kings Landing. Who have we got to swear fealty to now?"

Jogon held up his hand. "Mother if I may…Why not Daenerys Targaryen?" he asked. "From what I hear she's a evenhanded ruler. Good and fair. Like Lord Eddard was. And kind, like Maester Aemon."

Murmurs echoed through the hall as the diners considered the young man's words. Alysane stood. "Enough politics," she ordered. "Tonight we mourn Maester Aemon. And we also mourn the loss of the greatest house the realm has known. To House Stark," she said, raising her glass.

This was met by resounding applause and clinking glasses throughout the dining hall. It was also was the only thing Alysane had said in several days that actually elicited a weak smile from her formidable mother. "Here, here," offered the wearied matriarch.

"Tonight I'll dream of a life where the Boltons never walked the realm," said Lyra, sighing. "Things would be so different in the North."

Maege shook her head sadly. "There would just be some other morally corrupt family to tear apart the North. I just wish your sister Dacey didn't have to be a casualty of their schemes."

The table got quiet. Dacey Mormont was Alysane's elder sister and original heir to the house. She was tall, graceful, and beautiful. She was also an impressive fighter. The Mormonts were forever loyal to the Starks, and Dacey was more than happy to declare Robb Stark her king and ride into battle with him to avenge the atrocities that befell his family. The ever-sturdy Maege had fallen to her knees and wept when she was told Dacey was tragically killed defending her king at the now infamous Red Wedding.

Jogon nudged Alysane under the table. "You were planning to mention something at dinner tonight, remember? The white walkers," he whispered.

"Ah yes, let's just go from bad to worse," she whispered back. She cleared her throat. "Mother, I thought now would be a good time to discuss Maester Aemon's last letter to us. The one about the white walker threat."

Maege took a sip of wine. "Oh?"

"Most certainly," said Alysane. She then proceeded to regale her mother on the day's events and offered her own point of view, along with Elmer and Jogon's. Maege listened patiently, occasionally taking a sip of wine, eyes always fixed upon her daughter. When Alysane's speech reached its crescendo, the elder Mormont leaned back into her chair, offering her daughter a look of consideration that Alysane had seen many times before. "And here's where she tells me I'm an incurable idiot," she said to Jogon under her breath.

"Alysane," started Maege. She paused for a long moment. "Come," she said. "Let us talk alone."

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Alysane walked to one of the many balconies on the third level with her mother. Two attendants rushed over and placed fur coverlets on the women before they exited into the frigid air. There was no wind to speak of and the sky was free of any clouds. Alysane held on to the railing and peered up at the starry night sky. The moon wore an icy halo that glowed softly against the vast, black backdrop.

"Alysane," started Maege, her voice seeming thinner, almost wispy compared to her normal healthy baritone. "Jogon has grown to be an impressive young man. He's strong, handsome and quick in wit. You should be proud of him."

Alysane was surprised. She had been bracing for an all out assault of her leadership skills and general ability to function in life. "I—Thank you Mother. I quite agree with you." She smiled. "I've long held him in high regard. He's perfect, to put it simply."

"He made some excellent points this evening about the future of the realm," said Maege. "He spoke with conviction. I was rather impressed with my grandson to be quite frank. I think he's destined for some of the greater things in life."

"Mother if that's what you took me out here to say, I have to admit I'm pleasantly surprised. I'll be glad to sit outside with you much more often if this is where the conversation will inevitably turn," said Alysane, cupping her mothers' chin.

Maege sighed and chuckled. "You are an absolute devil Alysane but you know your own mind. And you know how to lead. The people of Bear Island love you, in the truest sense. They'd never love me like that. For goodness sake, they couldn't even love your sister Dacey, rest her soul, like they love you," she admitted. "If I died tomorrow you'd take leadership without so much as a stumble."

"Mother," started Alysane, her stomach fluttering. "What are you leading to?"

"Jogon," started Maege. "Don't you feel his talents are wasted out on the water day in and day out? Fishing for supper just like everyone else?"

Alysane swallowed. "He's contributing to the betterment of our home, Mother. There's no shame in that. Besides, he'll rule our house alongside me when the time comes."

"Oh certainly," agreed Maege, looking out into the vast wilderness beyond them. "It's just that… few people could inspire what he can," said Maege. "Think on it. He had a room full of dyed-in-the-wool Stark supporters actually reconsidering a Targaryen's worth to rule the Seven Kingdoms tonight. Imagine that?"

"Yes, he did. At his own personal peril," joked Alysane.

"That's just the point Alysane," said Maege. "The two of you inspire hope…you with your candor and bravery and Jogon with his words and his smarts."

Alysane's eyes widened. "Mother I'm not altogether certain what direction you're…"

"Your trip to Essos has long been a sore spot for me," said Maege. "I didn't understand why you insisted on going and without my permission I might add. I was angry with you about it for a very long time."

"I wanted to see the world outside of the island," said Alysane. "I decided that this was the best place for me. So I returned."

"I see that now," said Maege. "The trip was to your advantage."

"Undoubtedly," said Alysane.

"After all, you were given a very valuable gift while in Essos," asserted Maege. "That gift has grown into an wonderful young man."

Alysane watched her intently.

"I think Jogon should be given the same opportunity," said Maege. "I intend to send him to Essos."

"What? No!" asserted Alysane. "Absolutely not. Jogon is meant to be here. He's not going anywhere."

"He's sixteen years old and can make these decisions for himself," said Maege. "Whether his mother is heir or not. You know what a strong will can accomplish better than anyone."

"Who's to say that he'll even want to go?" argued Alysane. "He loves it here!"

"I say he wants to go because he told me so," said Maege. "When I proposed the idea to him this evening before dinner."

Alysane felt like she'd been kicked in the stomach. "I don't…I don't believe it. Jogon would never leave Bear Island."

"He would and he will be in two days time," said Maege.

"Two days?" asked Alysane. Her chest began to tighten. "And for how long?"

"As long as it takes," said Maege.

"As long as it takes for what?" Alysane demanded. "Tell me Mother. You're sending my only child away, MY beloved boy, so what is your grand reasoning for this?"

Maege roughly grabbed her daughter by the collar. "Look around you!" she spat. "The North is in tatters. We've got a sadist for a warden and a southern king marching on our dear Winterfell, burning anyone alive that refuses to bend a knee to him. There's an army of the undead setting eyes upon our shores! Do you want Jogon in this world? Do you really?"

"He needs to be here. To be a leader to our people," she argued, grasping her mother's tightly coiled hand. "They need someone to quell their fears in the face of so many threats. They need a defender!"

"That is what they have you for!" offered Maege, releasing her daughter from her grasp. She backed up a step. "Alysane, I've always had my suspicions about who Jogon's father was."

Alysane went to speak.

"Let me finish," said Maege. "And if I'm correct in my suspicions, then I think Essos—Meereen in particular—is where Jogon belongs right now."

"Meereen?"

"Yes," said Maege. "Like I said we've no further options here in the North for a viable leader. I intend to have Jogon go to Meereen to represent our house and to swear fealty to Daenerys Targaryen. He will assist her in any capacity she sees fit."

Alysane scoffed. "Mother there have long been rumors of Jorah's friendship with Daenerys. I think the Mormonts are represented just fine."

Maege's eyes were inflamed. "You use your dishonored cousin as a shining example of our family?" she demanded. "How dare you! Jorah brought indignity to our family name and to my brother. He sold slaves and spent our fortune on that grubber of a wife. No. Jogon is an extraordinary boy from an ancient house with a very unique bloodline. His services will be appreciated in Meereen, mark my words."

"I have no recourse then," said Alysane, folding her arms, determined not to emotionally break in front of her mother.

"As I've said, the boy has accepted my proposal." She approached Alysane with a softened gaze, touching her arm gently. "Jogon is extremely excited about this venture. He thinks only of the happiness and safety of his people. His departure could have so many positive implications for us all," stated Maege. "Jogon could very well contribute to the rise of a real leader. He could help guide us all to prosperity. Think of all the ways a true queen could enrich every life in the realm. And Jogon—House Mormont—will have been part of that." Maege pulled her daughter to her in a rare embrace. "I meant what I said before about everyone loving you Alysane. You will serve this house well. I know you will."

"Yes," said Alysane sadly. "And I'll have to do it without my son."

"I too have felt the pain that you are feeling," said Maege. "Believe me, it will only serve to make you stronger." And with that, Maege excused herself.

Alysane waited until her mother was well out of range before she allowed the grief to envelope her. The thought of Jogon leaving brought with it intense sorrow. The boy was everything to her. He was her one true gift. And in two days time, he'd be gone. She brought her hand to her chest and leaned on the balcony for support as she began to cry.

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Viserion

The white dragon enjoyed such an extensive adventure during his tour of the world. His journey began in Meereen and he maintained a Northwestern direction from there. The shores of Braavos were his last sight of Essos before he set off for the considerable and mysterious Westeros.

He began to perceive the distinct change in the temperature as he sailed over The Fingers and further on to White Harbor. Viserion garnered such incredible enjoyment from the cold. The chillier air felt simply wonderful on his scales and wings. In fact, it urged him on to points even further north.

He relished in the views over the Barrowlands and Winterfell. The food that was native to these areas also intrigued him. He no longer snacked on slow-moving goats and other sluggish beasts of burden that were so numerous in Essos. The creatures of the North were quite remarkably varied in their size and manner. They were furry, resilient and quick-footed. Some even fought against their capture with ferocity. Viserion quite relished in the exciting new challenges that this prey posed.

Viserion continued on past Deepwood Motte and sang joyfully as he flew over the Bay of Ice. The air was bitter and dense with snow. The white dragon sliced through the atmosphere with ease and delight. He was several miles into his journey when he spotted Bear Island. He was immediately enamored with the tall green trees that marked the landscape, in addition to all of the tasty creatures that such trees could hide.

The scent of the smoke from the numerous hearths tickled at his nose and he could see pinpoints of light coming from the large keep below. It appealed to his senses in such a way that he felt it would be a good idea to land and explore this enigmatic new venue for a period of time.

The dragon made his first attempt at a landing in what he thought was an area clear enough of the large trees to enter safely. However, Viserion had never had to complete such a style of landing before and his inexperience was evident. Upon his initial descent, his back left foot smacked hard into one of the treetops, putting the large dragon off balance. He struggled, shifting his body weight to the front. This, of course, made him top heavy, and sent him careening forward at a speed too fast for his liking.

He hit the snowy ground with a thud; the velocity of his heavy body causing him to continue sliding along the ground until some thickly settled trees quite graciously stopped his forward motion. Viserion fell back onto his behind, choking on snow and shaking the tree branches from his head and shoulders.

He looked around and, feeling confident that no one witnessed his colossal embarrassment, exhaled and got his bearings. Viserion first attempted to stretch the fatigue from his wings. Unfortunately, the area he misjudged as clear wasn't quite wide enough to allow his wings their full span. He grunted in frustration as he tried several alternatives. This only served to get his head temporarily caught between two trees. He yanked his head free, sending the two offensive trees several feet in the air. Viserion considered his predicament. There was certainly not enough room to take off in flight without damaging his wings. He'd simply have to shoulder his way through the wilderness until he found a suitable runway.

He moved carefully through the mass of trees, catching the scent of the fires again. It wasn't long before he reached the clearing of the woods and set eyes on Mormont Keep. Night had touched upon the island, making the Keep appear cozy and warm for such a tremendous structure. Viserion watched and listened to the many people that resided in this haven in the woods and felt a very new and interesting sensation of yearning. He wanted to get closer to this sanctuary and view its inhabitants for himself.

As a rule, dragons avoided humans. Sure, they could serve as a hearty meal in a pinch, but they simply didn't taste as good as a stag or a hog. In addition, people weren't known for their trustworthiness. They sought to own dragons, to tame them to suit their own selfish wishes. Despite this, Viserion chose adventure over caution and crept slowly towards the warmth of the massive log construction.

He moved with considerable stealth for a creature of his stature. In fact, he managed to scale the walls of the Keep while remaining unnoticed by the sleepy guards that lined each of the four levels. His powerful claws gripped the wooden surface as he peeked inside windows in an eagerness to satisfy his curiosities. Most of the humans inside were in their rooms and in various stages of activity. Some were sleeping while some read books. Others were arguing, and still others were making love. Viserion watched each one with interest before feeling a strong and unfamiliar pull towards something alien to him.

He followed this magnetic force with interest towards the east side of the Keep. There, he spied a young woman with long reddish blonde locks flowing down her back. Her shoulders shook as she wept. The dragon watched and listened intently, feeling an assortment of incredibly foreign emotions, one in particular being sympathy.

Viserion crept closer to her, longing to understand the reasons for her deep sadness. He managed to remain unseen as he made his way to the underside of the balcony. There, he used his powerful black claws to hold onto the wooden beams just below the lady's feet. Viserion inhaled, taking in the scent of her skin and her silken hair. He listened to her mourn for a long while before his desire to cast eyes upon her got the better of him.

The dragon very cautiously lifted his head so it was level with the railing. There he was able to get a view of her. She had lovely, fair skin and blue eyes like the sea. Her misery kept her from peering directly at him, her tear-blurred gaze just to the right. Viserion wondered what could have caused such heartache for the lovely woman. He simply watched her, completely immersed in her being.

Viserion couldn't resist lifting his head just a bit higher, too taken with concern for her to worry about being seen anymore. Now at eye level with her, he gently bent his head towards hers. A cooing reverberation escaped his throat, a purely instinctual action meant to soothe her. This gesture completely betrayed his position.

The startled woman turned and met the gaze of the golden-eyed creature. Viserion could hear the sound of her heartbeat, ever-increasing at his presence. His wings gracefully unfolded to help balance himself while he held fast to the body of the balcony. The woman pulled a hand away from her chest, her rapid exhalations illustrating her complete and utter shock at what she saw in front of her.

Viserion simply remained still, watching the woman with benevolent eyes. He ventured even closer to her, once again offering a throaty resonance to try to comfort her. He heard a very small cry escape from her mouth upon his approach.

The woman remained still for a few long moments before she raised her hand towards Viserion's face. With shaking, delicate fingers, she traced along the scales of his nose and mouth. He allowed this, rather enjoying the sensation of her touch.

Blue eyes remained fixed upon gold, as the steam from their breath was the only thing between them. Viserion watched as the woman's expression changed from one of fear to one of fascination. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak.

"Have I slipped into dreams once again?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Have I slipped into dreams once again?"

Viserion cooed at the sound of her first words. He had always understood the complexities of language, even as a baby. His mother had marveled at her young child's recognition of his and his brother's names. He even knew the names of his mother's friends and counsel. The human voice was something that quite fascinated him.

His eyes lolled at the feel of her slight, cautious touch on his nose. Little puffs of steam filled the air from his calm, soft breathing. He opened his own massive jaws to verbalize his pleasure, but all that escaped his throat was a ghostly shriek. This caused Alysane to take a cautious step backwards.

"I'm sorry," she said, assuming his resonance indicated an offense. "I took liberties. That was very presumptuous of me."

He cocked his head to the side. Viserion knew the word "sorry" but didn't understand the rest. He tried to speak again, but the same odd rasp was all he could muster. He bent his head forward and purred in order to reduce the space between himself and the lovely woman. He desired her to touch his nose again and talk softly to him. Mostly, he yearned for her to understand that her initiated physical contact was certainly no reason to be sorry.

"Mother," said a frantic male voice, as a human man appeared on the balcony alongside the lady. "Mother I'm so sorry, I expressly asked Grandmother to let me tell you and…" The young man stopped short and locked eyes with the dragon. He placed a protective hand on the woman's shoulder, his exhalations becoming more rapid. "The white dragon has come," he breathed.

"You can see him too?" Viserion heard her whisper to her companion. The young man nodded in reply.

"Oh good," she said, only mildly relieved. "I thought for a moment the kitchen did something to the wine at dinner."

"H-how long has he been here?" the man asked.

"Just a few minutes," she said in reply.

"Hmmm," he said. "It appears as if I was correct earlier. Your dreams once again prove to be able to foretell what's to come."

"Jogon," she said. "Not exactly the best time to gloat my boy."

"Agreed."

Viserion watched the young man with interest. "Jogon" she had called him. And he called the lady "Mother". She was his mother, and he her son, just like him and his own mother! This pleased Viserion immensely, first because he enjoyed having something in common with the pair, but also because their familial relationship likely meant that Jogon would bring no harm to the woman. The object of Viserion's affection was a mother, and her boy was not locked away underground. He was a healthy, happy man, free to do as he pleased. Perhaps all of the sons on this island were liberated, just as he fought to be for so long.

This possibility overjoyed the dragon. He lifted his head and extended his long neck to croon happily. The sound was ethereal and lovely.

It was also quite loud.

Suddenly, Viserion could detect hasty footsteps aimed in his direction. He dipped his head down to hide below the balcony but the doors were opening from the floor below and he knew that was no longer a viable hiding place. He pulled himself back up to the balcony and looked helplessly at the woman and her son.

"Mother," said Jogon, shaking her shoulder. "We've got to do something. He'll have a hundred arrows in him in before we can blink!"

She could already hear her guardsmen pressing forward to her rescue and stepped cautiously closer to Viserion. The dragon wore a look of alarm that immediately inspired her protective nature.

"Mother, you have to. You have to do it," said Jogon of his mother's rare ability to enter the mind of an animal. "He's as good as dead otherwise."

"I know," she said. "But if you'll recall I've never tried this with a dragon," she said, touching Viserion's nose. They locked gazes. "Listen my new friend. If you thought I took liberties before, you're going to be quite taken aback now. Look at me," she said. The dragon obeyed. "Look right into my eyes and don't be scared. You can always trust me."

Trust. He knew of that word too. He believed her intentions were benign in nature. He didn't know _how_ he knew this, but he felt this certain warmth in his stomach and he knew it meant that this woman, this mother, had essence kindred to his own. Viserion obeyed her wishes and fixed his golden eyes upon hers, allowing the frenzy of movement and sounds closing in on him to diminish. Viserion saw Jogon go to his mother and wrap his arms about her waist as if bracing her for a fall.

Just then, the lady's once striking blue eyes clouded over and she became limp in her son's arms. Viserion felt a slight hum enter his limbs and graduate to his belly. The sensation gained verve, and soon the unusual feeling had overtaken his neck. The last vision Viserion experienced before he lost consciousness was that of over two-dozen armed humans bursting through the doors and entering the balcony.

And then he was flying.

He soared over Bear Island with ease, but he wasn't the one operating his powerful wings. It was the woman who was flying. She was in his head, and using his body to move over the treetops to a safe area that only she could lead him to. Viserion watched the ground below moving swiftly by. It was then that he began to have reservations. What if her intention was to lead him off the island? What if he could never find her again? She immediately sensed the struggle in his mind and she quelled his fears with soothing words elicited directly from her stream of consciousness to his. The dragon then realized that they could speak to each other when in this state of being. Viserion immediately relaxed and allowed her to use his nimble frame to navigate over the immense island.

He felt his body begin to make a descent near what appeared to be a small field. There were two buildings situated on this piece of land. One of them was very large and appeared to be in the process of being constructed. Viserion's body made a smooth landing and entered the larger structure. There, he was provided with shelter and respite from harsh winds and humans alike.

Viserion wanted to communicate with the woman much more. He pleaded with her mentally to stay and speak with him until morning. She soothed him once again and told him that he would be safe in the structure for the night and she promised to come to see him at first light.

The dragon reluctantly agreed, but continually offered bits of information about himself, as he was in complete bliss over the fact that he could speak to her. She calmly suppressed his giddiness, assuring him that she'd seek him out in the morning hours.

He begged his new friend to wait, if only to tell her one more thing…

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Alysane opened her eyes with great care, bracing herself for the inevitable dull headache and mild nausea that were common side effects of using her abilities. The discomfort was made slightly better when she was able to gaze upon her son, who was seated on the floor of the balcony, gently stroking his mother's hair, her head resting in his lap. They shared a smile of two people who were able to experience something quite remarkable together.

Of course this special moment was brief, as there were quite a few of her guardsmen standing around her, frantically talking about the unexpected visit by the large white dragon. "Did you see it?" asked one, eyes wild with excitement. "Its wings were almost the length of the balcony!"

"We arrived just in time! He was about to eat Lady Alysane!" claimed another. "I saw it fly that way! We'll get a search party out to the woods immediately!"

"You will do absolutely no such thing," said Alysane, in a commanding tone. "The dragon means us no harm."

"But," started one of Elmer's men. "My lady he was…"

Alysane raised her hand. "Any man or woman with intentions of going out to look for or hurt that dragon will immediately be sent to Winterfell to work in Ramsay Bolton's privy. _Understood_?"

Everyone became silent and regarded Alysane with concerned eyes. Many of them wondered if the trauma of seeing the mythical beast could have put her in a state of shock.

Maege gruffly pushed through the throng. "You heard my daughter! Stop standing there like a bunch of slack jawed idiots," she demanded. "And get off this bleeding balcony before you all split a support beam with your fat arses!"

Elmer brushed past several grumbling bystanders as they milled back into the Keep. "My lady," he said, his gravelly voice filled with concern. "How do you know of the creature's intentions? Were you able to-speak to it?"

Alysane sighed. "Yes. And trust me I'm more surprised than any of you," she said.

"You could Mother?" asked Jogon excitedly. "You actually communicated with the dragon?"

Alysane nodded.

Elmer's eyes widened. "I'd be willing to bet that hasn't been done in centuries, if at all!"

Jogon couldn't contain his excitement. "What did it say? Is it really one of Daenerys Targaryen's children?"

Alysane sat up straighter. "Yes, HE did reveal that tidbit of information, yes."

"It's a he? Well, what else did he say?" asked Jogon.

She smiled. "He told me his name."

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Jogon and Alysane walked briskly through the woods just as the sun was rising. Elmer and several other trusted guardsmen followed at a distance. Their presence was allowed mainly because Maege demanded it, but they also promised upon pain of death or some other form of bodily injury that they would bring no harm to the dragon.

Alysane could feel the heat of excitement coming off of Jogon's body. The boy was simply dizzy with anticipation. This lifted Alysane from her poor spirits of the night before. The two of them had avoided the topic of his leaving in favor of their new visitor. She discretely hoped that the newest presence on the island would prevent the boy from wanting to leave. She knew it was selfish of her to think in that manner, but she frankly didn't care.

"Viserion," said Jogon, dreamily. "Most likely after Queen Daenerys' brother I would think. Viserys was his name."

"Oh we're calling her the Queen now?" asked Alysane.

Jogon frowned. "Why not? Didn't I present a compelling enough argument on her behalf last night?"

"Too good," said Alysane pointedly.

Jogon went to retort but thought the better of it. An argument would only serve to spoil the excitement. The two made it to the clearing and spied the structure where the dragon enjoyed reprieve of any human interaction.

It was a partially constructed barn, with the building next door initially meant to serve as a part time residence. Its intended use was for Alysane's uncle and former lord of Mormont Keep, Jeor Mormont, during his duties as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. The quarters and associated barn were to be for Jeor, his men and their horses when the Lord Commander visited his ancestral home for important events.

However with Jeor and Maege's always-strained relationship, the "Old Bear" as he was called, rarely ever came back to visit Bear Island. He did, however, make it a point to make the trip when Alysane gave birth to Jogon, as well as to help in celebrating the boy's twelfth name day. But, life in Westeros was harsh and could meet a quick end, just as it did for Jeor, so all building plans were sadly abandoned.

Alysane and Jogon walked carefully to the side of the barn, stopping at times to detect any movement. It was so quiet in the structure that the pair began to suspect that the dragon had deserted his makeshift hermitage in favor of the skies. When they finally stood in front of their destination, Alysane carefully peered between the heavy, wide set doors. Her eyes caught the entire length of the inside and she became despondent when she didn't see the dragon inside.

"What's wrong Mother?" asked Jogon. "He's not inside?"

"I—I don't know. I can't see anything besides bare walls," she lamented.

Suddenly, a heavy force was applied to both doors and they swung open, creaking and groaning from minimal use. The force knocked Alysane and Jogon onto their backs, leaving them laughing and struggling to regain their footing in the deep snow.

Alysane had only planted her left foot firmly on the ground when a large white head emerged from the doors, followed by a broad, scaly body and impressive wings. Viserion greeted the two of them with a quizzical expression.

Jogon couldn't help but giggle at their predicament. "He must think us terribly clumsy oafs." The boy stood and then assisted his mother before waving back at Elmer that everything was indeed okay. "He was hiding just below your field of view I'd say," asserted Jogon. He locked gaze with Viserion. "Good morning sir," he said jovially. "How was your stay in the luxurious guest quarters? Plenty of rats and raccoons in there to snack on, I'm sure."

Viserion approached Jogon, sniffing his hair. The young man remained still, marveling at the creature's lovely golden eyes and solid build. His scales were cream and his horns and wing bones golden. His teeth and claws were black and sharp as daggers. He stood several feet above his human counterparts, carefully considering them, not displaying the usual truculent posturing of a fierce dragon.

"His coloring is quite suitable for the North," remarked Jogon. "White for snow and gold for a king."

The dragon soon shifted his attentions from the boy to the woman he'd been longing to see for several tedious hours. "Alysane" she had told him was her name. He wished to speak it out loud. _Alysane_. He gently brought his face level to hers and nudged under her chin ever so gently. She softly touched his face. "Hello Viserion," she said with reverence. "My aren't you a handsome one?"

The dragon inhaled the scent of her hair, thoroughly enjoying the attention he was receiving. He looked cautiously in the distance at Elmer in his men as the group waited to assist should they be needed. "They won't try to hurt you," assured Alysane. "Not if I have anything to do with it." She looked over at Jogon. "Besides seeing you for the first time in the great hall, he might be the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes upon."

Jogon nodded appreciatively. "For me it's always been Floris, the butcher's daughter, in the bath, but agreed he's very impressive too."

Viserion liked to listen to the mother and son talk. He longed to be a part of their conversation. The dragon wished that Alysane would enter his mind again so that they could talk more. He could tell her about his birth in the Dothraki Sea, his misadventures in Meereen, and his escape. In return she could tell him of her origins and the cause of the sadness that befell her the night before. He searched her eyes, hoping she would soon become aware of his desires.

Fortunately, Alysane was on a search for answers as well. She gestured to the barn. "Come Viserion. Let's get to know each other better, shall we?" She walked past him and through the wooden doors. Viserion wasted no time in following her inside.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

The great hall was teeming with residents that converged on Alysane and Jogon upon their entry from outside. The pair was hit with a barrage of seemingly never-ending inquiries regarding the island's new visitor.

" _Is he all white? I heard he was all white. And big as an evergreen!"_

" _Did he let you fly with him Lady Alysane?"_

" _Did he try to eat you?"_

" _Does he breathe fire?"_

" _Does he speak?"_

" _Is he a danger to us? What about our horses?"_

" _Does he want a bath?"_

" _I made mutton stew. Should we feed him some mutton stew?"_

Maege pushed through the sea of residents and poked Alysane hard in the chest with one very pointy index finger. "You were certainly gone long enough weren't you?" she asked her daughter. "It's bleeding chaos around here!"

"Well yes Mother I'm fine thank you so much for inquiring," Alysane started.

"Don't get in a huff with me Alysane," warned Maege. "You let a dragon stay on the island you'd better be prepared to explain yourself. These are your people after all." She gestured around the immense room at the multitude of expectant faces.

Alysane sighed and looked at Jogon. "Your grandmother's right. I guess it's best to get this over with."

Jogon put his hands in the air and stood in front of his mother. "Everyone give her some space please," he commanded. The crowd backed up several steps and Alysane took a spot in front of the fireplace.

"Look everyone, let me first assure all of you that the creature means us no harm. He's simply here to visit, sample our fine woodland cuisine, and live out his life quietly," she said. "Or as quietly as one can live around here in the land of gossips."

"You were able to speak to him my lady?" asked Elmer's son Heben excitedly. "Like how you do with the other creatures?"

"Yes Heben," said Alysane, remembering her aching head. "I could communicate with him."

"What is his name?" asked Lyanna excitedly.

Alysane smiled. "His name is Viserion. He's a beautiful white and gold dragon. Not quite as big as an evergreen," she said chuckling. "But he's a large fellow just the same."

"Does he belong to the Targaryen girl?" asked one of the scullery maids.

Alysane nodded. "He is the son of Daenerys Targaryen, yes," said Alysane. "He's one of three dragons born in the Dothraki Sea."

"Why isn't he with his mother?" asked another resident.

Alysane hesitated. Viserion shared more about his mother with her than she was willing to divulge to the residents. "He…wanted to explore the world a bit, and he decided upon the North," she explained. "He quite enjoys the cold. He especially likes it here on the island."

This elicited an excited response from the crowd. "A dragon that loves Bear Island!" exclaimed one of the residents. "That makes him just fine in my book!"

Many of the residents clapped enthusiastically.

"Does he intend to live here on the island?" This question was from the lady Maege herself. "And what does he require for food?"

"Well," started Alysane.

Jogon stood by her side. "He seems very content in his current quarters at this time. He's caught several critters already. I think he'll be just fine hunting on his own."

"And where are these comfortable quarters you speak of?" asked the tailor.

"For his safety and your own I'd prefer not to say at this time," said Alysane.

"But you said he's no harm to us," argued the tailor.

"He doesn't intend harm to any of us that is for certain," said Jogon. "But remember he is a dragon. Many of us have heard stories about them and the one thing I find to be true is that he seems to prefer being solitary. He doesn't have much experience with humans and the same can be said about all of you. Due to the unpredictable nature of both parties, it's best if my mother primarily dealt with him. For now, anyway. He seems to have taken a shine to her as it were."

"A shine you say?" asked the tailor's wife excitedly. "Perhaps our lady will be his dragonrider! Like in the old books!"

The crowd murmured excitedly.

"See what you started?" Alysane whispered. "Why did you have to tell them that he's taken a fancy to me?"

Jogon smirked. "Because it's true," he said under his breath. "And I suspect the feeling is mutual."

"My lady another question if you please." It was Brindel, who had remained silent throughout the impromptu meeting.

Alysane smiled weakly at her friend. "Of course Maester Brindel. Ask anything you please."

"Well I only inquire after the implications of having a dragon live here on the island," he stated.

"Implications?" asked Alysane. "Meaning?"

Brindel stepped towards the center of the crowd. "If we are housing a dragon, does this mean that he could potentially provide us with some measure of protection?" he asked. "Could he be a guardian of sorts for the island and it's people?"

Alysane knew Brindel was simply trying to help her cause with Maege. "I would need to interact with him a bit more to determine if he'd be willing to serve in that kind of capacity," she said.

"He could fry us up a Bolton or two!" exclaimed one of the residents. This brought about applause and excited cheering.

"Well I certainly hope he'd be willing to protect the people," said Maege, dryly. "Otherwise why would we allow him safe haven and share our food sources?" She looked at her daughter expectantly.

Alysane bristled. "Like I said, Mother, I'll need to spend a bit more time with him in order to make any determinations on his intentions." She gritted her teeth. "It's not enough to have a creature once thought extinct on our island," she whispered to Jogon. "She just HAS to complain about something."

"It's like breathing or blinking to her," assured Jogon. "It's second nature."

"In any case," she said addressing the crowd. "I have several of our best men out near Viserion's new domicile. They are to make sure no external influences interrupt the dragon's stay here. I trust you all will cooperate and let him be," said Alysane. "Your adherence will be rewarded, of course, with my complete transparency in my interactions with him."

"What does that mean?" asked one of the cooks, looking confused.

Alysane smiled. "It means I promise to tell you everything about him if you leave him alone."

"If you speak it Lady Alysane," started Brindel. "Then I take it as truth."

"Here, here!" exclaimed the crowd.

"Well if we're just about done here," said Alysane, beginning to step away from her makeshift podium.

"Not just yet my lady," said the tailor, adjusting his glasses. "What's this I hear that Lord Jogon is to depart for Essos tomorrow?"

The crowd suddenly erupted into concern.

Alysane turned towards her son. "Your turn."

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Alysane slipped through the veil of night, moving through the darkness relying only on her memory of the terrain to guide her footfalls. The sky above was thankfully clear, and the moon once again wore its icy halo. Brilliant diamonds of stars shone against the velvety sky.

She reached the clearing and nodded to the men who stood guard a little over a hundred feet from the barn. "Thank you boys," she said, handing a basket to Clovis, the highest in their rank. "Dinner."

Clovis and the men thanked her as she walked swiftly to the barn cradling a gift for Viserion wrapped in thin linen cloth. She stopped short of the barn doors and whispered his name. She saw one molten gold eye through the space.

He pushed the doors open and made room for her to enter. Closing the doors behind her, she smiled upon seeing him. Several lanterns were still glowing giving a softer look to his scales. The dragon cooed at her. He loved how the cold brought a blush to her cheeks.

"I brought you something," she said, unwrapping a large piece of meat from the cloth. "Its from the shank of the stag from the other morning," she explained, offering the meat to him. He didn't understand everything she was saying but he certainly understood her offering of a delicious meal. He very carefully pulled it from her hands, trying to avoid harming her with his powerful teeth.

"It's cooked," she said. "I wasn't sure if you wanted it that way or not. But meat is meat is it not?"

Viserion enjoyed the spices used to season the meat. He let the flavors sit on his palate for a few moments before he swallowed. The pair studied each other for several minutes before Alysane decided to initiate some form of interaction. She sat on the ground where she suspected he'd made his bed. The dragon willingly followed her, resting on his belly, head extended. She shimmied forward, offering her lap as an area to rest. Viserion placed his large head on her crossed legs, gratefully accepting this invitation.

"Good news," she said, lightly caressing his head. "Your arrival has convinced Jogon to stay on the island. Well, not forever, of course. He does still plan on going to Meereen to see your mother. But he won't be leaving tomorrow, or for the next few months for that matter. I can't tell you how thankful I am for that."

The dragon listened with rapt attention. He didn't care if she didn't enter his mind right then. He was exhausted and simply desired to be near her for a while. She spoke at length about a variety of topics, her voice lulling him into relaxation. Viserion only understood a few of the words she spoke, but her manner was cheerful which led him to believe that she no longer had reason to feel the same sadness of the evening before. This brought joy to the dragon's heart. He lifted his head slightly and locked eyes with her.

She leaned in and gently kissed him on his nose. "Goodnight Viserion."


	4. Chapter 4

Hi all and thanks for reading! So I'm going to go a completely different direction with Stannis and not follow the books or the show. (Alysane and Stannis meet in the books but under different circumstances). To me, Stannis is such an interesting character and I wanted to flesh that out a bit more. Again thank you for reading.

Bear Island was experiencing several changes since Viserion's arrival six months earlier. Winter had been quietly settling in for months, but it officially arrived and the cold slowed everything and everyone down to a sluggish pace.

The characteristics of the season were showing its effects on all of Bear Island, even the most hardened Northerners. Outside watches were dropped down to three hours a shift, as opposed to the usual ten. Food was strictly rationed, with any meat and fish being stretched out with soups or stews. Residents chose to assemble into the great hall to enjoy the fire and keep each other warm, as opposed to the typically popular courtyard. Chilled wine and ales were suddenly discarded in favor of stomach-warming brandies.

The fishing crews only took to the water twice per week as opposed to daily. Even then, the men arrived back home much earlier than they did during the summer months. Jogon quickly found a way to fill his free time by attending any and all council meetings with his mother and grandmother. He also saw to the needs of the residents by hosting a weekly open summit to address concerns, complaints or any topic that they wanted concentrate on. The young man would also attend to any important guests visiting the island. Alysane was pleased to see him take such an active role in his leadership. He spoke less and less of travels to Essos, which delighted his mother but caused a bit of tension with his grandmother.

The white dragon was also flourishing in the winter months. He and Alysane spent much of their time together and their friendship thrived. They shared their innermost thoughts and secrets during their private moments. Viserion would repeatedly ask Alysane to tell him the story of when she met Jogon's father. It fascinated the dragon to hear about their short courtship and how Alysane truly wanted to be a mother above all else. Viserion felt such warmth in his belly when Alysane was close to him or even when he would just think of her. It was a feeling that only she could inspire within him. The two spent many nights together, Viserion's head resting in her lap, drinking in her voice. After their talks, she would curl up next to him and his large body would keep her warm and safe.

It wasn't long before Viserion's curiosities extended beyond Alysane and Jogon to the other residents. He began sneaking to the Keep to try to socialize. At first it was a comically disorganized affair. Viserion was, by nature, large and loud. His morning wake up roar alone was enough to shake the snow from trees a mile away. His first days were spent feeling hurt because all the residents seemed to do was run away from him. However, with guidance from Alysane and hours of careful practice, the two parties eventually forged a new and exciting partnership.

The lifestyle of the humans fascinated Viserion, and he would spend hours simply watching and learning from their interactions with each other. The people of Bear Island grew to enthusiastically accept the dragon and welcome his frequent visits. The forging of the two species would likely be impossible anywhere else. However, the longanimity and temperance of the residents made them a perfect family for a dragon. And, Viserion thought, if Alysane loved them, he could certainly love them too.

Viserion, who was by and large unaffected by the temperature, took to the skies daily and performed a scout of the island. He handled anything from Wildling raiders, iron born troublemakers and anyone else making an unsanctioned trip to his home. At first the residents were horrified to find the burned bodies strewn about, but they soon understood that it meant Viserion had truly adopted Bear Island as his home, and considered the residents to be his kin. Jogon was also quick to point out that Viserion's methods certainly made it much easier to dispose of bodies and, he reasoned, dead men could tell no tales.

In addition to his duties as a protector, Viserion established himself as a keen hunter as well. As a result of his lengthy and wonderful communications with Alysane and his interactions with the people, he'd learned about sharing and compromise. If he happened upon some deer, he'd always try to secure two or more. That way he could enjoy a meal but also deliver some much appreciated meat to his friends.

Viserion's developed understanding of language was astonishing. He'd learned the names of some of the islanders and understood the intricacies of many words. The dragon eventually developed the ability to understand entire phrases.

Due to the discretion of the islanders, word never spread about Viserion choosing the North as his home. Anyone who trifled with the residents met a quick and fiery end, and visitors were very carefully sequestered from Viserion's typical haunts. Everyone felt as though they owed it to the dragon to maintain his anonymity. After all, he offered them so much in return.

It was on one particularly grey and frozen afternoon that Viserion flew high in the sky, contemplating his success since leaving Meereen. He spotted no immediate dangers below him and was unable to locate a good meal. He began to long for his friend Alysane, wishing that she could experience the joy of flight with him. It bothered him so to see her wave to him from the balconies of the Keep. He wanted her to soar above her lands just as he could.

He decided to take a break and quickly peek in on her. Landing softly on the balcony closest to her room, he leaned over the left side and peered into her room. She was laying on her back in front of the fire and Viserion could tell by her eyes that she was daydreaming. His breath condensed against the window while he quietly wondered what was dominating her thoughts. In his enthusiasm a small cry escaped his throat, and he saw Alysane stir. She smiled broadly when she spied him in the window.

"I was just thinking about you," she said, pulling open the window. A rush of cold air preceded Viserion's large head. "Don't get stuck," warned Alysane, giggling. She kissed his nose. "I've missed you today."

He purred at her, wishing he could fit in her chambers. They could sit by the fire and enjoy each other's company, letting the afternoon waste away into wintry night. Viserion, although universally loved by the islanders, still felt a certain distance from them due to his size and nature. It cultivated a sense of loneliness in the creature. He longed to sit in the great hall with everyone and mingle. At night, he watched the residents take their meals together and enjoy conversation over brandies. He'd envision himself inside the great Keep, living among the others. He imagined having Alysane by his side each time, hearing her hearty laugh at something wonderfully hilarious that he said.

In his fantasies he was himself…but somehow different. His scales were gone in favor of smooth, fair skin. His golden horns disappeared and were replaced by real hair. His large, black claws became long fingers on strong, masculine hands. They were hands that Alysane held tightly with her own.

He used to think that flight was the only joy any creature could possibly know, but he'd learned that the humans knew _so many_ joys. There was love, laughter, children, a warm embrace, talking, dancing, eating and drinking. There were times when Viserion felt he'd trade power and flight any day to be a human male. He could enjoy all of the trappings of being human, most importantly knowing Alysane's love. She would allow him to know her as Jogon's father did. They would join bodies and then talk well into the night, their creation already beginning to grow inside of her.

"You look terribly down today my friend," said Alysane, looking concerned. "Is the cold beginning to bother you?"

Viserion never shared his desire to be human with Alysane. He was aware of their physical differences and his inability to alter them. He understood that his mother was a human, but that he and his brothers were not actually birthed from her body. Viserion, Rhaegal and Drogon were born of fire, not of a woman, although they knew a mother's love. Some nights he'd stay awake and try to imagine himself as a man, hoping that when he awoke, he'd find that he enjoyed a metamorphosis. However such mornings never came. Viserion exhaled and shuffled his thoughts to the back of his mind and settled on another, seemingly more attainable goal.

Moving swiftly and soundlessly, he edged to the center of the balcony and looked at her expectantly. He cried out an invitation for her to join him. "Ah," she said knowingly. "I see now."

She entered the hallway and walked to the balcony, thanking the attendant as her woolen and fur cape was draped over her shoulders. He brightened when he saw that she'd followed him. "Viserion," she began as she slipped on her leather gloves. "Now you know my reservations on this topic."

And he did. During the times when she'd enter his mind, she explained that becoming his dragonrider would be both fantastic and frightening. She admitted that it would make their connection stronger than anything in the world, but if such a union were to be lost, either party would be devastated. There were so many dangers to consider. Alysane had obviously never flown before. She had no idea how to balance atop an enormous flying creature, and he had no way of knowing how to fly with someone on his back. Any number of calamities could befall the duo.

He felt her same fear of loss and understood her uncertainties. However, the call of the sky was so prolific that he could simply not resist. He adopted a stance that he always did when urging her to fly. He'd extend his left hind leg and rest his wing bones beside it to giver her a proper "staircase" to climb to her intended seat.

She sighed. "You're nothing if not tenacious," she said, stroking him under his chin. She grinned. "Think you can wear me down, do you?" He gently nuzzled into her neck. She giggled. "That tickles. Such an instigator."

In her wildest imaginings, Alysane wished to fly with her friend. She could never forget the wonderful flutter in her stomach the night she entered his mind and flew him to safety. It was a glorious sensation of complete sovereignty that she would not soon forget.

The desire was abundant for such an adventurous spirit like Alysane. She admitted to herself that if her sister Dacey was still alive and heir to the house, Alysane would likely accompany Viserion in flight. However, with her numerous responsibilities, including a son, she couldn't justify stepping into the shoes of the storied dragonriders of the distant past. Besides, she was Mormont, not Targaryen. The thought of anyone without blood of the dragon as a rider seemed preposterous. She'd simply have to put her affection for risk aside in favor of being a reliable leader.

As if reading her thoughts, Jogon stepped onto the balcony. "Still trying to get her to mount you old boy?" he asked Viserion, who offered an exasperated grunt for his troubles. Jogon grinned. "Don't feel bad. Now you know how every unmarried lord that's ever visited Bear Island has felt."

"Jogon!" said Alysane, snorting in laughter. "Don't let your grandmother hear you speak like that."

"Old Maege has heard and probably done a lot worse I'm sure," he said. The boy watched his mother for a few moments. "So," started Jogon, as he always did before a rather lengthy lecture.

"Let me guess," interrupted Alysane. "You're going to appeal to my senses with a story. Who shall it be today…Aegon the Conqueror's sister-wives?" she said in reference to the famous dragonriders Visenya and Rhaenys Targaryen.

"Well they were a, excuse the pun, fiery pair, weren't they?" asked Jogon.

Alysane chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Without doubt."

"Can't you just see them in your mind's eye?" started Jogon, dreamily. "On the backs of Vhagar and Meraxes, conquering Westeros, city by city. It must have been a remarkable sight."

Alysane shrugged. "To them maybe. But the cities they were taking may have felt differently. Let's not forget Harrenhall. Aegon and his dragon Balerion destroyed entire bloodlines with that attack."

"Oh I know Mother. I don't speak of fascination with destruction or surrender. I only think of the magic of the bond between rider and mount. Can there be anything like that in the world? I can't imagine so," said Jogon.

She smiled. "It's your father's blood in you that's making you speak like that."

Jogon sighed and went to the railing, pressing his elbows against the solid wood. He peered back over his shoulder at Viserion. "That may be so. I'll admit I'd join Viserion in the sky in a moments notice if he'd have me." He turned and walked to the dragon, softly touching his nose. He smiled. "But he won't. He wants you and only you."

Alysane shook her head. "I simply can't imagine why," she said. "I'm not blood of the dragon. I'm Mormont. A Northerner. _A bear_."

Jogon laughed. "And if my father were alive today, what do you think he'd say to me spending so much of my life on a boat?"

Alysane pondered the thought and had to laugh herself. "I see your point."

"Then why do you continue to resist?" asked Jogon. Viserion pressed his face into Alysane's neck as if to pose the question to her as well.

"I have responsibilities here Jogon," she said.

"And joining a dear friend on an adventure that likely no ne else in this world can experience would somehow prevent you from your duties?" asked Jogon, shrugging.

"It's dangerous," argued Alysane.

"That's the nature of life," said Jogon. "We risk death every day, Mother. This is Westeros for goodness sake." He gestured to the dragon. "Why not make the most of your time here?"

She looked between her son and Viserion, both wearing expectant faces. Her mouth twisted into a smile. "I'll… _consider_ it," she said.

Jogon took his mother by the waist and spun her in celebration. Viserion watched the pair in confusion. Jogon went to the dragon and took his large face in his hands. "I know that was a tough one to follow old boy, but the long and short of it is…we may have just gotten her to say _yes_!"

Viserion understood the word of affirmation and raised his head in song to rejoice. The beautiful sound echoed through the air. Brindel unfortunately cut their brief merriment short, however. The young maester poked his head through the balcony doors. He smiled. "I do so despise interrupting the lovely singing but the Lady Maege requests the presence of her daughter and grandson in the council chambers right away."

"It's like a raven lets her know when we're having any fun," said Alysane, frowning.

Brindel shrugged sheepishly. "My apologies my lady. I'm simply the messenger."

"That you are," said Alysane to her friend. "We'll be close behind."

The maester nodded and took his leave. Alysane and Jogon bid Viserion farewell and promised to seek him out later in the day. As the pair walked to council chambers, Alysane linked arms with her son. "I know one thing your father would be very proud of if he could see you today."

Jogon had a sparkle in his eyes. "Is it my ability to talk the young Lady Ashwood out of her clothes?" he asked, innocently. "Twice?"

Alysane playfully slapped her son in the chest. "Jogon!" she said laughing. "As a matter of fact, he certainly MIGHT be proud of that accomplishment, although I suspect HER father would not appreciate it." The two walked off their levity before Alysane resumed her thoughts. "What I was going to say it that your father would be very pleased to see you rule," she said. "You've really proven yourself to be a true leader."

Jogon smiled warmly and put his arm around his mother. "I didn't just get that from my father," he said reassuringly.

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"Alysane why is it that whenever I call for you it takes you twice the amount time as it would anyone else?" asked Maege as Alysane and Jogon entered council chambers. The stout matriarch was seated between Brindel and Elmer, wearing her usual scowl.

Alysane patted her sister Lyra on the shoulder as she took a spot across from Brindel. She playfully kicked the maester under the table. "Can't blame me. Every man walks as slowly as possible on the way to the executioner."

Maege scoffed. "Honestly Alysane."

"My lady if you please," said Brindel. "I'm afraid we've called this meeting due to some rather concerning news."

Alysane sat up straighter in her chair, looking concerned. "What is it?"

"A raven came just after noon," said Brindel. "Stannis Baratheon is on his way to Bear Island. He'll arrive in a just over a week's time."

Alysane frowned. "Why?"

Brindel cleared his throat. "According to his letter, he…intends to take respite here for a time. The winter hasn't been very good to his men."

"So why doesn't he just stay at Castle Black? Moving about certainly isn't going to help alleviate his predicament," said Jogon. "And it's not as if it's magically any warmer here."

"His letter states that things are rather unsettled at the Wall," said Brindel.

"Unsettled how?" asked Alysane.

"Lord Commander Snow has forged an alliance with the Wildlings," said Brindel. "Naturally it's divided the brothers. Half are loyal to Jon Snow and the other half believes his actions to be heresy. Conditions there are inhospitable to put it nicely."

"And Stannis was never one to suffer fools," said Jogon. "Any infighting is likely to wear very quickly on his nerves."

"There's more," said Brindel. "His wife, Selyse. She's dead."

"How?" Lyra asked.

"It's believed she died from an infection in her lungs my lady," said Brindel.

"Good riddance," said Maege, dismissively. "She was a hideous woman, inside and out. You could serve a plate of cheese on her ears they were so bleeding big. And I'll tell you she had more upper lip hair than most lords I've met." Maege shuddered.

Alysane chuckled. "I wonder how Stannis has held up. He was always rather attractive don't you remember Mother?" she asked, smirking at Maege.

Maege rolled her eyes. "What does that matter Alysane?"

"Well, Maege, he's a widower now," she said winking. "Perhaps you'll show him some of your Northern hospitality? It's the least you could do, the man is grieving after all."

Maege's eyes widened. "Me open my legs to a southern king? Have you lost your mind? I'd rather be stripped naked, dipped in honey and left in the woods for Brij to eat!"

"Interesting visual imagery Grandmother," said Jogon. "Now…of course we must consider if Stannis has a sweet tooth," he reasoned.

Lyra, Jogon and Alysane desperately tried to control their giggles as Maege's neck began to turn crimson in her aggravation. "I've raised a lot of perverts," she said shaking her head in disgust. "All of you. Complete degenerates."

"As, as… _riveting_ as this discussion has become I'm afraid I'm going to have to steer you all back on to the original topic," said Brindel.

"Okay fine," said Alysane. "So Stannis isn't in the mood to entertain whatever silliness is happening at the Wall and he's grieving his wife's passing. I still don't understand why he's coming to Bear Island."

Brindel hesitated and looked over at Elmer cautiously. The grizzled warrior cleared is throat. "My lady, as you know the Boltons maintain a stronghold on the North. Bear Island is one of only a few dissenters."

"As we should be," stated Alysane. "This house will never bow to the Boltons."

"And I truly agree," said Elmer. "However our independence from the Boltons has piqued the interest of Stannis and his advisor, the Red Woman."

"The what?" Lyra asked with raised eyebrows.

"A priestess of R'hllor," said Alysane. "Melisandre is her name."

"What do you know of her Mother?" asked Jogon.

Alysane shrugged. "Nothing really, besides rumors and second hand accounts. She hails from Asshai. I'm told she's a great beauty and obviously holds enormous influence over Stannis," said Alysane.

"Why does she have such influence over a king?" Jogon asked. "Is it simply her beauty that has him entranced?"

"It's been said that she has visions when looking into fire so she can foretell the future." Brindel spoke the next sentence with a tinge of anxiety. "I'm told that she utilizes king's blood to urge on her premonitions."

"King's blood?" asked Jogon.

Brindel nodded. "It makes the visions stronger somehow. Several months back there were whispers that she abducted a bastard of Robert Baratheon for just such a purpose. To my knowledge the boy went missing soon after his arrival in Dragonstone."

Alysane and Maege exchanged nervous glances. "King's blood," Alysane said softly.

Lyra shrugged. "Well at last count no one here has kings blood."

"Viserion does," said Jogon. "Although I'd like to see this Melisandre try to catch him."

"Do you suspect that's why she's urging Stannis here?" asked Maege. "Perhaps her visions allowed her to see the dragon?"

Brindel shook his head. "My lady I'm afraid Stannis' intentions are much more pedestrian and political than that."

"Really? Go on," said Alysane.

Brindel sighed and looked at Alysane with crisp aquamarine eyes. "My lady you are the pride of the island. Our people are unified because of you. I mean no disrespect to the lady Maege," he said apologetically. "Please believe that."

Maege waved the comment away. "Nothing I'm not already painfully aware of Brindel. Continue please."

"The people love you Lady Alysane," said Brindel. "Your leadership has kept us all safe in some very troubling times. Word has undoubtedly spread throughout Westeros of Bear Island's resistance of the Boltons. And Stannis most certainly knows of your influence over that. I think…well I think that he's coming to the island to create a political alliance."

"He already asked for that and was promptly denied," said Alysane. "Does he need to have it spelled out for him in person?"

"He asked for fealty my lady," said Elmer. "I believe Maester Brindel sees a much larger and more immediate picture."

Alysane crossed her legs. "I see. Apologies for the interruption, Brindel. Please go on."

Brindel nodded. "I think Stannis was requesting obeisance before but as you all know he's a brilliant strategist. Of course I am only speculating on his motives but it is my belief that Stannis is going to suggest marriage to the lady Alysane."

Alysane inhaled sharply, her pulse pounding in her ears. "What? Why in the world would he do something like that?"

"My lady please look at it from Stannis' point of view. A marriage to you would win him the loyalty of Bear Island, which, if all goes in his favor, could actually place him in a remarkably favorable position within the whole of the North," said Brindel. "This alliance could actually unify the North against the Boltons and bring about prosperity."

"He's right," said Jogon. "Think about it. If there was to be a union between Mother and Stannis, I'd be willing to bet that most of the Northern houses would happily accept him as king considering the alternatives. With the entire North behind him, Stannis could practically stroll into Kings Landing and step right over Tommen Baratheon on his way to the Iron Throne. The North could finally be released from Bolton rule and, with a Mormont as queen, they'd have a guarantee of representation throughout the Seven Kingdoms." Jogon paused before chuckling despite himself. "That old bugger is brilliant!"

Alysane shot Jogon a disapproving look.

"Sorry Mother. In all honestly I'd rather be hung upside down by my toenails before I saw you married to Stannis Baratheon. But I have to give him his due credit," said Jogon shrugging sheepishly. "It's not as if you need to say yes anyway."

"Oh no Jogon of course not," said Maege sarcastically. "She always has the option of being burned alive as an alternative!"

"Grandmother for goodness sake, I was not suggesting that she," started Jogon.

"How can we know this is to come to pass?" interrupted Lyra. "He's grieving the passing of his wife. Is it really believable that he's already shopping for another queen?"

Maege clucked. "There was no love in his union with Selyse. Despite their time together, I'm sure Stannis is relieved that the old cow is gone."

"Perhaps he simply needs to escape Castle Black and wants a chance to win us over with his famously warm personality," suggested Jogon.

"He wouldn't come all this way just for that," said Maege. "This visit will most certainly benefit him immensely, no matter the means."

Brindel looked at his dear friend sympathetically from across the table. Her brow was furrowed, her neck and shoulders holding visible tension. "My lady as your friend, I…I beg you to consider this union, despite how ludicrous it might seem to you now. Your sacrifice could be the North's best chance at liberty," he said softly.

Jogon placed a hand upon his mother's, feeling a slight tremble. "Brindel, at this point this is all speculation, correct? Could we be getting ourselves upset over nothing?"

Brindel nodded. "Yes, absolutely. Stannis could be here for any number of reasons, including knowledge of Viserion. I must stress, however, that the chances of an impending marriage proposal are quite high."

Alysane abruptly stood, feeling as though she couldn't get quite enough air into her lungs. "Thank you all for your respective points of view, which, of course, will be considered carefully. But I'm afraid I," she hesitated, her stomach churning. "I think I'll take my leave now." She shakily turned on her heels and walked towards the chamber door.

"Alysane Mormont where do you think you're going in the midst of this important matter?" demanded Maege. "We're not anywhere near a conclusion!"

Alysane placed her hand on the doorknob and turned. "First, I'm going to find Viserion and tell him that I want to fly with him. When we get as high into the sky as his wings can possibly take us…I'm going to jump." And with that the door slammed shut behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

Viserion sliced through the bitter air, wings flexed majestically at his sides. His celebratory croon could be heard throughout the island. He'd accelerate during straight-aways, ice forming around his golden horns. When he'd reduce his altitude or prepare for a turn, his rider would compensate by tightening her thighs around his back and applying a steadying hand to his long neck. The white dragon, although for reasons still unknown to him, finally had a rider in his beloved Alysane Mormont.

Alysane had improved a bit more each of their six days of practice. Day one was shaky and full of hesitance. After all, the dragonriders of old had saddles. Alysane had to rely simply on her balance and her ability to communicate with her mount. However each following day was peppered with excitement. As Alysane's confidence grew and the pair's in-air communication progressed, the dragon could be more daring in his aerial maneuvers. On this sixth day of pure ecstasy, the dragon could feel Alysane's body move along with his. She was even beginning to anticipate his motions and react in kind. To his delight, the lady desired a lot of practice, often spending hours in flight. Alysane and Viserion would end each of their days exhausted and blissfully happy.

To Viserion, this was hands down the best week of his life. He was given the gift of a rider and a wonderful, capable one at that. He gleefully looked down at the fascinated residents who gathered daily to watch their lady ride the dragon through the skies of Bear Island. They could both hear the faint cheers of the people below. The dragon took pleasure in the enthusiasm from the residents. However, what he most enjoyed was feeling Alysane's heart throughout their rides. He absolutely reveled in experiencing the beats increase as they reached higher and higher into the air. He could hear her rapid breaths and even feel her broad smile.

Alysane had chosen to keep Viserion in the dark regarding Stannis Baratheon. If Maester Brindel's marriage predictions came to pass, this was the one and only time she'd be able to feel this free again. She wanted to enjoy her special bond with Viserion as much as she could before she was thrust back into her world of responsibility and sacrifice. Her throat tightened at the thought of taking up residence in Kings Landing, far away from the home and the people that she loved.

Of course she had a very small list of demands to present to the would-be king of Westeros. She would enter the union if the North were truly liberated. Bear Island would lose none of its traditions or love for its home. Viserion would somehow; some way remain a secret from her future husband, which was something that she had planned to speak with the dragon about later in the evening. She would not sacrifice her friend no matter what. Viserion had spoken of the cruelty of humans before. Alysane never wanted him to have to feel such unfairness again.

Jogon would be the one element she would not have control over. If Alysane were to become queen then Jogon would inherit Bear Island. He could not rule from Kings Landing, therefore he would need to stay behind. This brought Alysane to the deepest pits of despair. Bringing life to Jogon gave her purpose when she had none. He was her loving son but also her friend. Living without him would leave a gash in her spirit that would likely never heal.

Besides the North's emancipation from the Boltons, Alysane had one final request of Stannis. She would be taking both Elmer and Brindel with her. Elmer had been her captain since she was learning to talk. And as far as Brindel, well, maesters could be replaced, but not cherished friends. If Stannis was to refuse her, then Alysane resigned herself to being a pile of ash at the foot of a pyre.

All of these things had been thoroughly discussed throughout the week. Talks with Elmer and Brindel were entirely positive. Anything with Jogon or even Maege and her siblings was filled with tears and heartbreak. However such discussions were completed and everyone knew their roles in the future of the realm.

Now it was time for the final discussion Alysane needed to have before Stannis changed her life forever. She spent five fitful nights debating on whether or not she should speak to Viserion about the upcoming changes. After all, there was no guarantee of Stannis' intentions, despite Brindel's affirmations to the contrary. However, after much deliberation, she decided it would be best to make the dragon aware of what was going on. Things had a tendency to move quickly, and if that were to occur, she did not want to provide any rushed explanations to Viserion. She loved him too much to keep him in the dark.

"Viserion I need to talk to you," she said, watching him lick his chops after his meal of a wild boar. The two sat on the floor of his home in the partially built barn. The dragon had refused when the islanders offered to complete the roof for him, as he preferred having a view of the sky when he was inside. Otherwise he'd feel too enclosed, just like in that dreadful pit in Meereen, a place he still had nightmares about.

He approached her and gently laid his head in her lap, eyes drenched in bliss from another wondrous day. She took a deep breath before her eyes became milky white and she fell forward onto his head.

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"My lady! My lady!" cried Elmer as he and several other men broke through the door to the barn. When they entered they found Alysane standing under Viserion, her hand to her heart, in tears. The dragon's chest was puffed, wings akimbo, as he emitted the most sorrowful cry ever heard to human ears. The creature had no control over his body as he rasped and cried and flailed haphazardly around the structure, splitting the woodwork in places. He was so entrenched in his sadness it was as if he'd forgotten how his own appendages worked.

Elmer's presence only seemed to exacerbate Viserion's worrisome state. He screeched at the older man as if pleading for mercy of some sort. "My lady," said Elmer, looking at the dragon sympathetically. "What are we to do for the poor soul?"

"I don't know," said Alysane, sobbing.

"What did he tell you?" asked Elmer. "When you were in his mind?"

Alysane shook her head, not ready to recall the anguish that recently befell the dragon. At first he'd been confused, thinking he was to remain inconspicuous from a new set of guests. However, when she elaborated on the southern king's probable intentions, he was unable to control his shock and resentment. How dare this arrogant man take Alysane away from her home and her son and from anyone she loves? How could he separate a dragon from his rider? Viserion thought little of the politics that fueled this man, Stannis, in his actions. In fact, he thought releasing dragon fire upon the so-called king was appropriate punishment for even assuming he could break such sacred bonds.

"No!" he'd screamed from within the confines of their collective minds. "You cannot be his!" he lamented. "You are not his! You are…you are mine. Only mine." His breathing was staggered at the thought of Alysane clasping hands with the king, sharing his home…having his children. His heart felt as if it would explode from his chest.

Alysane had felt every ounce of his pain and it echoed within her. In his grief she could sense some of the feelings about being human that he'd kept hidden from her. "Viserion," she said between wracking sobs. "Viserion please. I have to do this. I am bound by duty."

Viserion climbed to the roof, a never-ending rush of anguished cries escaping his throat. A man was taking his every happiness in his whole world, from him. A _man_. Something Viserion had so longed to be. The white dragon cursed his own existence. If he wasn't such a large, lumbering beast, he could be Alysane's man, not some stranger named Stannis who knew no affection for Bear Island or for the wonderful woman that was to be his intended. He looked down at Alysane, her tear stained face peering up at him with pleading eyes.

He looked into the distance at the horizon and longed to escape his hurt and confusion. Viserion readied himself and took flight. It was the only thing he could understand, and the only thing he wanted to. He tried to block out the sounds of Alysane desperately calling his name as the evergreens passed swiftly below him.

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"For goodness sake," Maege complained as she roughly scrubbed Alysane's arms and legs. "Where is the handmaid with that snow?" she bellowed. Alysane let her body remain limp as her mother very carefully bathed her. Her eyes were swollen and leaden from crying throughout most of the night.

"Here we are my lady," said the harried handmaid, bringing in the cold outside air with her. She'd wrapped some tightly packed snow into a cloth and gently applied it to Alysane's face. "This should help with the swelling." Alysane closed her eyes as the cool fabric did its job.

Another attendant came in and hung Alysane's new dress just near the bed. "Have you used the privy yet this morning my lady?" she asked. "This gown will be tricky once you've put it on."

Alysane nodded without looking up.

"Fine time to ask her if she's pissed and shat. She's halfway through a wash," said Maege under her breath with a heavy exhale. She dipped the cloth in the bath water and handed it to her daughter. "Come on Alysane, perk up will you?" She pushed Alysane's hand under the water. Clean your flower, stem and roots. And clean it good. I'll not have a daughter of mine stink, future queen or not."

Alysane complied, moving the cloth through the fold of flesh at her center. From there, she was gruffly lifted up by both arms and pulled to a standing position. An attendant rushed to wrap her in a thick towel. She was then led in front of her fire where two handmaids quickly got to work on her long, thick hair, preferring to braid part of it while still wet. While waiting for the rest of her locks to dry, light oil infused with dried lavender and peppermint was massaged into her skin and a thin dusting of perfumed powder was applied to her underarms. Normally Alysane would argue that none of this preening was necessary. However, her mind and body were too weak and pained to offer any protest.

Once her hair was properly styled, she was to put on her dress. Its original intent was to be a name day gift for her from Maege, so it was quite fortunate that the tailor just happened to be putting his finishing touches on it when the news broke of Stannis' impending visit. The dress was a lovely cobalt blue with accents of cream-colored lace at the sleeves and neckline. The tailor's design drew in at the waist, allowing Alysane to showcase her petite yet curvaceous frame. The color was an uncommon choice for the North but the style was a classic one. It was a stunning garment that fit Alysane perfectly.

Jogon entered as his mother was being given the final touches. The young man simply stood before her in awe. "Mother," he said softly. "You look so very beautiful."

"Hmpf," said Maege. She went over and looked her daughter up and down before uncharacteristically softening. "I know your sister Dacey was always regarded as the pretty one Alysane, but I must admit you are every inch a beautiful, proper lady at this moment. If Stannis wasn't planning to propose before, he will when he takes one look at you."

Alysane exhaled, completely ignoring her high praise. "What of Viserion?" she choked out. It was the first time she'd spoken all morning.

Jogon's lashes slipped downward. "He's not been seen today, Mother. Perhaps he is staying hidden, as he was asked."

"Or he's left the island completely," she said, feeling her throat tighten once again.

"No, no, no," warned Maege, taking Alysane's face into her hands. "There will be no tears right now, I mean it! We can all mourn later. Right now we've got business to attend to. You had all night to nurse to your grievances. Now is the time to put that aside. Do you hear me Alysane?"

Alysane stood up straighter and cleared her throat. "Yes Mother. I'm ready."

Jogon nodded. "Good. Because the boats just docked about a half hour ago. Elmer took some horses down and he's escorting Stannis to the Keep right now."

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"Unfold your arms," scolded Maege, pulling her daughter's arms to her sides. "You stand as if you're contemplating a purchase of sheep for goodness sake. And stand up straight!"

Alysane resisted the urge to roll her eyes and obeyed her mother's commands, trying desperately to appear a gracious hostess. Her heart was sick for more reasons than one, but she had to try her best not to place blame on Stannis. He'd see her resentment immediately and this was not how she wanted to start a possible marriage.

The great hall, despite the hundreds of people within it, was silent, save for a cough here and there or the sounds of the wooden floors creaking under impatiently shifting feet. Most of the residents were unaware of the reasons for Stannis' visit. The loyal northerners all waited to get a look at the storied lord of Dragonstone and, of course, use it as a chance to gossip heavily.

The doors to the hall swung open, the bright morning light behind Stannis, creating an ambiguity in his appearance. Stannis was just two feet away when Alysane was finally able to look upon his features. He stood tall and slim, with strong, broad shoulders. He had a long face with hollow cheeks and a short salt and pepper beard covering his square jaw. His hair, once black, had begun to thin slightly and lose its pigment. Alysane thought he certainly shared the good looks of his brothers Robert and Renly, despite his years and battle-weariness. His dark blue eyes looked upon her with certain sternness. However, Alysane thought, there was a hint of curiosity and quite possibly respect as well.

"Lord Stannis," Alysane said, issuing a curtsey of respect. "Welcome to our home. I'm Alysane Mormont."

"That is not the proper way to address His Grace," a sonorous voice said to his left. The lovely Melisandre calmly stepped forward. "And you and your people will take a knee."

There were several amused chuckles in the crowd. Alysane looked at her son, trying to hide her own levity. The very last time the residents of Bear Island got to their knees was when Ned Stark arrived for a visit, bringing along his then eleven-year-old son Robb. Alysane had to admit, however, that Stannis certainly had the right attitude for the crown. However, it wasn't going to fly at the Keep.

"Something's funny?" asked Melisandre, looking more curious than annoyed.

Alysane looked upon the exotic beauty. She had long auburn locks that seemed to bleed into her equally stunning ruby gown. Alysane smirked. "My lady I don't know if you are familiar with the old expression about northerners."

"And what expression would that be?" Melisandre asked.

"Our knees are very stiff," said Alysane. The crowd murmured their collective approval of their lady's words.

Melisandre went to offer a sly retort but was stopped by Stannis, who raised his hand dismissively at Melisandre. He remembered very clearly what Jon Snow told him about northerners. "It's all right," he said in a gravelly voice. "Let's reserve formality for another time."

Alysane swallowed back any additional snide remarks and instead offered introductions to Maege, Jogon and her siblings. "And, of course," she said, gesturing to the hundreds of people in the hall. "The people of Bear Island."

Stannis took a long moment to make eye contact with several of the residents before settling his eyes back on Alysane. Everyone, including Alysane, held his or her breath. "You and your mother have made a charming home here Lady Alysane," he finally said, his expression remaining static. "Shireen," he said, offering his arm. "Come."

A pretty little girl of ten stepped forward, hands clasped together tightly. She twitched nervously as her father guided her in front of Alysane. "This is my daughter, Shireen."

Alysane immediately softened upon seeing the little girl. She leaned forward and smiled warmly. "Hello Lady Shireen. Welcome to Bear Island. We are so glad to have you here."

Shireen smiled broadly, the greyscale on her left cheek and neck prominent. However, her beautiful and kind blue eyes absolutely shadowed any of her scarring. "Hello my lady," she said in a soft, lilting voice.

"You all must be in need of food and rest," said Jogon, stepping forward, eager to let any tension dissipate. "Please allow me to escort you to your chambers."

Stannis nodded. "Very kind. Thank you," he said. He turned to Alysane. "Join me for a meal in my chambers, Lady Alysane. Noon?"

Alysane could feel her mother's eyes boring into her. "Of course," she said, smiling weakly. Stannis nodded politely to Maege and Alysane as Jogon led the group to their fourth floor lodgings.

"In his chambers," said Maege, annoyed. "And he said it right in front of everyone. He acts as if you're already his wife."

Alysane agreed. "That _was_ a bit bold of him. But he does fancy himself a king, so..." Stannis looked down once more at Alysane as he arrived on the fourth floor balcony. He held his emotions in expert fashion therefore she had no idea what to expect when noon arrived. "I guess I have to wait to find out my fate."

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

"So was Stannis what you expected?" Jogon asked before taking a long pull from his coffee cup. He watched his mother stare listlessly out of her chamber window. "Mother?"

"I don't have any expectations," she said with more than a hint of bitterness in her voice.

Jogon sighed. "Great. And the pouting begins."

Alysane folded her arms across her chest. "You'd be pouting too if…"

"Mother do not make any assumptions regarding who amongst us is allowed a good cry over their individual circumstances," said Jogon. "You are not the only one whose life is being turned upside down. There were hundreds of people in the hall this morning that will soon be saying their goodbyes to you. How do you think they fare? I'll spare you the details on my own feelings."

Alysane softened. "I'm sorry Jogon. You're right."

He stood and went to the window on the opposing side of the suite, noting that his own eyes searched the sky for a certain missing dragon. "I'm sure this is made all the more difficult when you consider Viserion," he said, sadly.

"He was in such pain," said Alysane. "Because of me."

"Mother there's no way you can prevent what happens in the coming months, lest you decide to become the next offering to the Lord of Light, or whatever they call him."

"Viserion doesn't understand that," said Alysane. "He just knows that I am leaving him. I'm no better than a traitor in his eyes."

"Traitor?" asked Jogon, turning in surprise. "Viserion would think no such thing of you!"

"Well whatever he thinks, I deserve what I get now," she said, putting her head in her hands, fresh tears pooling in her lower lids. "For goodness sake, between the possibility of you going to Essos and this bloody dragon I've cried more than I have in all my years alive."

Jogon went to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "You are being entirely too hard on yourself," he said. "Perhaps tonight you can try to enter his mind. You can do that over distances can you not?"

She shrugged. "I've never tried. But…it's not an altogether terrible idea, my son. I will try that this evening."

"Good," said Jogon, going back to his chair. "Now let's use the time that we've set aside this morning wisely. What are you going to address with Stannis at noon?"

"Ah, let's see…Northern liberation, the white walker threat and what side of the bed he prefers to sleep on. In a nutshell," she said.

He smirked. "Well don't lend too much discussion on the latter. There will be plenty of time for that once you're both in King's Landing."

"King's Landing," she said softly. It was a world away. "I can't imagine myself there, in the heat with all of those people and the…gag-inducing stink."

"Don't think of it that way," said Jogon. "You'll surely drive yourself mad."

"I feel as though I'm already there," she said.

A knock at the door preceded Brindel peeking his head inside. "My lady, my lord," he said nodding. "May I interrupt?"

"Of course," said Alysane, gesturing for him to come in. "We were just discussing this afternoon's talking points."

Brindel smirked as he moved towards the table. "Northern liberation, the white walker threat and Stannis' preferred side of the bed?"

She looked at Jogon with a gleam of mischief in her eye. "It's as if he knows me," she said, dryly.

"Better than you do even," said Jogon. He nodded to the scroll that Brindel held in his right hand. "What have you got there?" he asked.

Brindel exhaled, handing the paper to Jogon. "A correspondence we just received. Perhaps you wouldn't mind reading it aloud my lord," he said, taking a place next to Alysane.

Jogon hesitated as he held it up in front of him. "The seal from Castle Black," he said, somewhat surprised, turning it for his mother to see. He looked at Brindel with curiosity. "It's unbroken."

Brindel shrugged. "For once I thought I'd like to be surprised."

"One less busybody on the island," said Jogon. "Who knew?"

Brindel grinned. "I was born Manderly after all."

"That'll be our little secret," said Alysane. "Don't keep us in suspense then Jogon," she said, nodding towards the scroll. "Let's hear it."

Jogon carefully snapped the seal and unrolled the scroll, at first going to read it aloud then pausing, his eyes scanning the page with interest. Alysane cleared her throat. "Jogon?"

Jogon licked his lips. "It's a letter from the Lord Commander…expressing his deepest confidence in Stannis Baratheon's good intentions towards the North. He encourages us to do the same."

Alysane gingerly reached for the document, which Jogon handed to her. She blinked several times, one folded hand on her chin as she thought. "So our one true king fully supports another in his claim to the throne."

Brindel placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "My lady," he started.

"I'm fine," she said, shaking her head. "In truth, it makes me feel so much better that Jon Snow supports Stannis. It's just that…"

"There's nothing holding you back now," said Brindel. "I understand."

The trio sat in stillness for a few moments, with only the crackle of the fire in the hearth to punctuate the silence.

Jogon suddenly shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. "So…what do you two make of the infamous Red Woman?"

"Stay away from her," said Alysane.

Jogon put his hands in the air and grinned. "Relax Mother, I'm only asking after your opinion."

"I'm not kidding Jogon," she warned. "I don't trust her. Ever since Maester Brindel mentioned kings blood."

Jogon shook his head. "It's not a concern of mine."

"It should be," she retorted.

"Why?" Jogon asked. "She knows only half of my lineage. Besides my father was not a king. Not by Westerosi standards anyway. Therefore I am no king. Problem solved, don't you agree?"

"Your father was a ruler of thousands," said Alysane. "He was respected and feared by more people than could fit on this island."

"That doesn't make him a king," argued Jogon. "Maester Brindel, what are your thoughts on the matter?"

Brindel leaned back in his chair. "Your mother makes some good points Jogon," he said. "But I have to side with you my lord. I do not believe that the lady Melisandre seeks the blood of anyone who wouldn't have legitimate claim to the Iron Throne. Therefore your father would not be considered king nor would you be thought to possess king's blood."

Alysane looked thoughtful. "Fair enough," she said, shrugging. She then narrowed her eyes at Jogon. "But that doesn't mean that my original command changes in any way. _Stay away from her_."

He looked at her with his usual mix of mischief and love. "I'll do as you say Mother. Fine way to talk to the new heir to this house," he said under his breath, trying not to laugh.

She playfully smacked him on the arm. "You're not the heir yet, my boy."

"Do you think Lady Melisandre knows of Viserion?" Jogon asked.

"I certainly hope not," said Alysane, shuddering.

"I second that," said Brindel.

The three sat for a few quiet moments, listening to the burst of activity going on in the halls as the house prepared a meal for Stannis and his entourage. The sun was high in the sky and offered an unobstructed view of the Bay of Ice. It was there that they witnessed the very large ivory creature flying across the horizon and going in for a landing.

They all stood. "He's still here," Alysane said excitedly.

"By the direction he's going I'd guess that he'll be over near the bear's cave," said Jogon. "I'm going to meet him there."

"Wait!" said Alysane. "I want to go with you. I have to see him again. I have to, Jogon."

"You can't," said Jogon, gesturing to the clock. It was only ten minutes to noon. "You have another adventure scheduled."

Alysane gulped. "But how will you speak with him?"

"Easy," said Jogon, going to the door. "I'll bring along Lyanna."

Alysane nodded and smiled, going to Jogon and embracing him. "You'll be sure to explain everything? And tell him how much I love him, yes?"

Jogon hugged his mother tightly. "I'll take care of it Mother, I promise," he assured her before pulling away. "Now go and show the next king of Westeros how we northerners negotiate." With that he kissed her forehead and rushed to the stairs.

Alysane looked between Brindel and the clock and felt her stomach lurch. In just under eight minutes she was to learn her fate. The maester offered his hand in support. She clasped it tightly and led him to her window to look out upon the landscape. Her heart swelled when she saw Jogon and Lyanna running towards the gates to the outside, Elmer and Heben in tow. It tore at her inside not to be able to see Viserion immediately. However, she thought, no matter the ultimate outcome with Stannis, if Jogon was able to make Viserion truly understand their circumstances, then maybe all would not be lost.


	6. Chapter 6

_*Hello there - I'd written chapters 5 & 6 at the same time hence posting only one day apart. You'll quickly notice that my characterization of Stannis is not 100% in line with the books or the show. What can I say? I prefer his softer side. But hopefully I've managed to maintain his general Stannis-esque qualities. Thank you as always for reading._

Alysane was thrilled to see Shireen sitting comfortably in Stannis' room as she waited patiently for her meal. She wasn't, however, happy to note that Melisandre and another of Stannis' chief advisors, Davos Seaworth, were in attendance as well. She was nervous enough as it was without the unnecessary audience.

As if sensing her apprehension, the Red Woman walked to Alysane and reached for a piece of her hair, gently twirling it in her long, delicate fingers. She stood a good five inches taller than Alysane, which lent a more foreboding, shadowy essence to her appearance. "I told you she was very pretty, didn't I?" she asked, looking at Stannis for affirmation.

Stannis simply nodded, not choosing to look at Melisandre, or at anyone in the room for that matter. The woman smiled at Alysane. "I saw you in the fire. You wore a golden crown and the people worshipped at your feet."

"Including you?" Alysane asked, pulling her hair away from Melisandre's intrusive grasp.

Melisandre simply smirked and wandered to one of the windows. "I like your brazen manner Lady Alysane," she said, her back to the rest of the room. "A queen should always have a bit of fire within her."

"A queen you say," said Alysane with raised eyebrows.

Davos cleared his throat and approached Alysane with benevolent eyes. He offered a small bow. "Thank you for offering us a chance to rest," he said.

Alysane softened. "How do your men fare?" she asked of Stannis' numerous soldiers.

"Many of them wait for us on the mainland," offered Davos. "My king has restored Deepwood Motte and has granted it back to House Glover so things are quite peaceful at this time."

Alysane looked at Stannis, surprised. "You've given control of Deepwood Motte back to the Glovers? Are you serious?"

Davos answered for Stannis. "That is true. Lady Sybelle was very pleased. You should be expecting a letter from her quite soon I would imagine. She offered respite to the men for the duration of our visit here."

Alysane took a few moments to process what she was hearing. "I apologize if I'm taking a bit of time to catch up," she started, still making it a point to address Stannis directly. "You're telling me that you and your men made the journey here from Castle Black and just happened to drive all of the ironborn out of Deepwood Motte on your way? How exactly is that possible?"

"We have a good army," Stannis said in a noncommittal manner.

"Of southern soldiers," said Alysane, eyes wide. " _And it's winter_."

"It certainly is and a rough one at that," said Davos, once again speaking for his leader. "However I must say it's been terribly helpful having the full support of the mountain clans. They've been paramount in our success."

"What?" said Alysane, folding her arms, eyes laced with skepticism. "What mountain clans were so moved to join up with your army?" Davos once again went to reply but Alysane made a gesture that let him know she would require an answer from Stannis himself.

"You ask as if you don't take me at my word," said Stannis, a rare sparkle in his eye.

Alysane bristled. "I've only just met you my lord. It may be awhile before I can take you at your word."

"Fair enough. The clans Flint, Wull, Norrey and Liddle offer their support," said Stannis. "And, of course, now House Glover."

Alysane paced the room. "But, how did you-?"

"Lord Commander Snow advised me," said Stannis. "He had plenty of sound ideas on gaining northern support. Conferring with the mountain clans was one of them."

"And was giving Deepwood Motte back to it's rightful northern house also his idea?" she asked.

"No," said Stannis. "That was mine."

Alysane sighed and locked eyes with Stannis. "Well, look at that. Stannis Baratheon is just full of surprises."

Stannis kept his jaw firmly set, letting Melisandre do any and all gloating on his behalf. "My king is impressive," she said. "It seems the North is slowly learning that."

Alysane chose to focus on Davos, as he seemed to be the most candid. "Ser Davos what of the white walker threat? We had a wildling scouting party hit the island about six months ago, seemingly escaping something. Upon questioning they didn't reveal much." She thought of Viserion's usual anti-personnel tactics. "We…haven't seen any others around since. You were all up at the Wall. Is this something we need to prepare for? Maester Aemon seemed to think it was and…"

"My lady, the Lord Commander is handling the white walker threat, quite capably in fact," said Davos.

"I'm sure he's doing his best, but he's forged an alliance with the wildlings. The brothers are now divided are they not?" she asked. "I would think any dissention would put all of us at risk. The brothers are our last line of defense."

"The Lord Commander will ensure that the brothers unite and his alliance with the wildlings can only serve to benefit the North," insisted Davos.

"Yes," said Stannis. "I would think that you would trust the Lord Commander's decision without question. Him being your one true king and all." He looked at Alysane expectantly.

It hit just the right chord. "My lord, one should never rely on blind faith, even in their king. Ned Stark always encouraged the houses to speak up if they disagreed with him. I'm sure he instilled that same philosophy in Jon. One human being can never be right one hundred percent of the time. There needs to be someone to introduce a counterpoint."

Stannis folded his arms. "And exactly what do you think I have Melisandre and Davos for?"

Her eyes widened. "They wholeheartedly agree with everything you say! What kind of a challenge is that?"

Davos chuckled upon sharing an amused look with Stannis. Even Shireen had to suppress laughter at that statement. "My lady," said Davos, smiling. "As we become better acquainted, I think you'll enthusiastically change your views on that topic."

Just then Ginny, one of the attendants stepped in with a platter of chicken and potatoes. Davos shared a meaningful glance with Stannis before approaching the heavyset woman. "Miss, if you please could you set up a meal for me and the two ladies in my chambers?" he asked, nodding towards Melisandre and Shireen.

Ginny looked at Alysane for approval. "That will be fine Ginny," said Alysane before she bid farewell to Shireen. Alysane noted that even Melisandre did not appear to be insulted upon her dismissal. In fact, she seemed pleased that Alysane and Stannis would be offered some time alone.

Once it was just the two of them in the room, Alysane settled into a chair. Stannis followed suit. He offered to pour her wine, which she accepted. She felt it best to withhold the arrival of Lord Commander Snow's letter of support for a while. Instead she chose to try to peel away at the man on a more personal level. "I'm…very sorry to hear of your wife's passing," she said. "How is your daughter faring?"

Stannis paused and then swallowed hard. "She is a strong girl," he said in his gravelly voice. "We will both push on."

Alysane knew by his tone that it would be the last they spoke of that particular matter. She nervously pushed her food around with her fork, watching him. His every movement was a lesson in restraint. His recent victory at Deepwood Motte belied his satisfaction with himself, however. He was a man after all, Alysane thought. Even he couldn't deny a small celebration for his efforts. It was when he reached for a piece of bread that she was entirely compelled to try to capture a bit more of his sincerity. She quickly intercepted and took his hand in hers.

She'd effectively caught him off guard and he sat there, frozen, searching her eyes for some sort of explanation for her intrusion. "Do you really want to liberate the North?" she asked. "Tell me the truth. Please Stannis."

He didn't pull away but he gently guided her hand to the table. She felt him squeeze it just a bit tighter when he replied. "Yes."

She exhaled and he could feel her relax. He slowly pulled his hand from hers and leaned back in his chair, watching her intently. "You have many more questions," he said. "I can see it behind your eyes."

She nodded. "You said the Lord Commander advised you on various strategies. Was coming to Bear Island his idea or yours?"

"As Lady Melisandre said earlier, she saw a woman in the fire," he said. "In her vision the woman was wearing a gold crown, people worshipping at her feet. She wore a bearskin, holding a child at her breast with one arm and clutching a battleaxe in the other. Upon Melisandre's description of what she saw, Jon Snow knew right off who that woman was. He told us we'd find the lady in question on Bear Island, the she-bear of House Mormont he'd said. I knew we were in the right place when we arrived at your keep and I saw the woman from Melisandre's vision carved into the gates."

Alysane smiled. She'd always loved the carving on the front gates. It described the women of House Mormont perfectly—they were both mothers and warriors. "What else did Lady Melisandre see in the fire?" she asked cautiously, thinking of Viserion.

"Just you," he said softly.

"And it was enough to pique your curiosity?" she asked.

"Without doubt," he said, nodding. "From that point I became very interested in the she-bear and her home. The young Lord Commander spoke highly of House Mormont. However, I think his affinity goes beyond his relationship with your uncle or his possession of Longclaw," Stannis continued. "He said your house was loyal through and through."

"We are," she said. "Or…were."

Stannis nodded. "Losing House Stark only to have a shameful house such as Bolton take control must have been very difficult. But you resisted," said Stannis. "Even amid fear of retaliation you stood strong. It seems the words to your house ring true."

Alysane nodded. "The people here are steadfast. I'm very lucky."

"As are they," he said.

She bit her lip. "You've come to Bear Island to discuss becoming allies."

This time he leaned forward and took her hand, pausing for a long time to look into her eyes. "You know why I'm here Lady Alysane. I'm in obvious need of Northern support. I believe I'm on my way to getting that, but there's a key element missing. I need a strong queen, one with the North in her blood that will inspire enough hope in her people to get them to ally with me. That woman is you."

"You know all of this just from a vision of Melisandre's?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Believe me, I was just as skeptical as you are at first. But when I spoke your name to Torghen Flint when he asked of me my plan for the throne, he was more than happy to partner with me. I received the same reaction from the other clans, as well as House Glover. Anyone loyal to House Stark has a certain fondness for you and Bear Island. I'm confident that the rest of the North will follow suit and gratefully take you as their queen. From there we can finally restore the North, and the entirety of Westeros, to what it once was."

Alysane watched him intently for a few moments. "I'm at a loss for something to say."

A small smile played at his lips. "I'd better savor the moment. I have a feeling you're not speechless very often." She laughed softly. He studied her for a long time. "You Mormont women certainly are unique. Any other woman in the kingdom would jump at the chance to be queen."

"We don't want for very much," she said.

"Perhaps I should reconsider then," he said. "A true queen is never at a loss for desires."

She chuckled. "Look at you," she said. "It's as if you already know I'm going to say yes."

He exhaled. "I would not deny being pleased if you did accept."

"I need assurance on a few small matters first," she said.

"I thought you said you didn't want for much," he said, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

"It will be quick and painless," she assured him.

"Go on then," he said.

"I've never been much for religion," she started. "The people of the island worship the old gods, of course. To me, it doesn't really matter. People can worship their own feet if they so choose."

"Then why bring it up?" asked Stannis.

"Because I don't believe it should be used to instill fear in people. My people do not bend in the face of fear, you see. If you and I are to forge an alliance I will not bear witness to any person being burned for the sake of your Lord of Light. We will earn the support of the people, not scare it out of them," she asserted.

Stannis turned his eyes to the window at his right. "Lady Alysane, you have always enjoyed the adoration of your people. It's your birthright. You've not had to work for it. You have no idea how difficult it is to sway people's allegiances in your favor."

"Of course I do," she stated. "I work for it every day. I fight for my people. I help hunt for their food. I keep them safe and happy. And I do it without making them fear me."

Stannis turned back to her, his eyes piercing and unyielding in their intensity. "You truly are a Northerner."

"I pretend to be nothing else," she said.

"All right, Lady Alysane," said Stannis. "I'll agree to play fair for now. But if we meet too much resistance, you and I will certainly need to revisit this discussion. Understood?"

She nodded.

He softened for a moment. "What else should you like to address with me?"

"Do you want more children?" she blurted out.

"You mean do I want a son?" he asked. "A male heir."

"Yes," she said, breaking eye contact with him. She hadn't expected to ask him about children so soon. "I assume it would be something that would weigh on any king's mind." Being a woman didn't hamper one's ability to rule or be respected as a leader on Bear Island. However, Alysane knew such a philosophy was not generally recognized throughout the rest of the realm. Although she'd be happy no matter the gender of the baby, she was fairly certain Stannis would likely desire a male child.

"Your boy Jogon," he started. "Is very impressive. He's smart, a good leader. You've done right by him. If you are able to give me a son who has even a tenth of his abilities, I'll be grateful."

She smiled. Alysane couldn't deny that she was happy to be able to have more children. Jogon was her pride and joy and she would miss him terribly. But if she partnered with Stannis she was ensuring that Jogon would be leading a safe and happy Bear Island. In addition, she thought, Shireen would be a bright spot to help with her loneliness. And then there was Elmer and Brindel. "I will need to take my captain and his family with us to Kings Landing."

He nodded. "Certainly."

"And my maester."

"Of course."

The two sat in silence for a few moments before he looked at her with interest. "I guess your self-assessment was correct. You didn't ask very much of me at all."

She shrugged. "As long as the people of the North are free I suppose the rest is simple negotiation."

"Good," he said, sitting up and stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork and putting it into his mouth. "It appears as if we've reached a proper agreement."

It was apparent to Alysane that Stannis was done with niceties and was back to business as usual. However, this didn't bother her. Things had worked out rather well considering the alternatives. The North would soon be free of Bolton rule, and her people would live out their lives in peace.

Additionally, Viserion's presence remained a secret, or so Alysane concluded from her interactions with Stannis and the people closest to him. Of course she would never stop missing the dragon. A sensation of yearning sat upon her heart like lead, as she thought of their last flight together. She blinked, hoping to disguise any tears in her eyes.

Stannis broke her from her thoughts. "I want to depart Bear Island in a month. We will be married before that time and will release the news of our union to all of the noble houses. From there we will go back to Deepwood Motte and gather forces before we take Winterfell back from the Boltons."

Alysane's expression took on a hint of wickedness, the taste of Bolton blood already a slight tinge on her tongue. "I'm quite looking forward to that."

"You've engaged in battle before my lady?" he asked, looking at her warily.

"Not in war," said Alysane. "Only in defense of the island."

"But you've killed before," he said, more a question than a declarative statement.

She took a sip of wine and slowly placed the goblet back on the table. "Yes. Anyone who has dared harm my home or those I love has not lived to tell the tale."

Stannis saw the darkness in her eyes and it summoned a certain feeling of affection for her. Admittedly he yearned to see her in battle. It was immensely reassuring knowing he'd be taking a queen that could fight in his name. He sat back in his chair. "The lady _does_ want for more as it seems."

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Viserion sat patiently in the snow, watching Lyanna try her best to enter his mind. The pair had an audience in Jogon, Elmer and Heben, all of whom offered quiet encouragement throughout the afternoon. As much as Viserion appreciated their efforts, the exchange wasn't moving along successfully.

"It's not going to work," said Jogon, placing his hand on Lyanna's back to pull her from her reverie. "Come back to us love."

The little girl's eyes resumed their bottle green hue and she looked up at Jogon apologetically. "It's not that he won't let me in. I just don't think it's possible without Alysane."

Jogon kissed her forehead, knowing she must already have the dull headache that came with skinchanging. "It's alright little one," he said, getting up and approaching the dragon. The creature looked defeated, his normally golden eyes losing some of their luster. "I wish I knew what you were thinking, old boy," he said, caressing between the dragon's eyes.

Viserion cooed at the young man. The dragon always felt such a kinship to Jogon. They were both loyal sons. They both loved Alysane and Bear Island with all of their hearts. So much so that the dragon couldn't find it in himself to leave. He'd certainly tried. However, every time he'd see the shores of the island pass below him, something would pull him back, like invisible strings attached to his body. He had to stay. He had to protect. It was part of his being now.

"Mother says she loves you," Jogon whispered. "You know that word, don't you old boy? Love?"

Viserion sighed heavily and nudged Jogon affectionately. Yes, he knew love.

"Please don't leave us Viserion," Lyanna begged as she came to Jogon's side. "You're part of our family now. We need you."

"Mother might have to leave but I'm staying," Jogon assured him. "And Lyanna. We'll be here with you. There's Grandmother too, of course, but I won't be offended if that doesn't excite you." The dragon simply offered another nudge to the young man. Jogon sighed and turned to the rest of the group. "I have no idea if he's understanding any of this."

"He's calmed considerably from last night," offered Elmer. "Perhaps it's a good time to get Lady Alysane out to see him."

Jogon nodded. "I'd thought we could do this without her but it doesn't appear so."

"How will we steal her away from our new guests?" asked Heben.

Jogon looked thoughtful for a moment before flashing a grin. "I think I've got the perfect distraction."


End file.
